Sacrifice
by Glimare
Summary: AU - DNBverse retelling of Apprentice Arc. In a world where Batman retired after his first adoption and 'Robin' never became a hero, Slade still wants an apprentice. 16 yr old Dick Grayson is not getting along with Bruce but won't leave his siblings. One night he shows of his skills, and will forever regret it. T for POW torture & nameless deaths. NO SLASH some Fluff
1. Intro & 1 - Sorry, Not Robin, Not Really

**Disclaimer:** How I wished I owned Batman, Robin, the Teen Titans and all the wonderful things DC has. Unfortunately I don't. Walk away lawyerman! Zero claim to the characters.

Just an FYI before you get started, this is an AU I call the DNBverse. It stands for _Daddy, Not Bats_, which is a major ongoing world/series of shorts and arcs I have going on in the Batman comic section. This is one of the big, big arcs from that series. Why is this story here? Because it is a retelling of the Apprentice episodes, plus the Red X one. They're retold to suit the world I created, adjusted accordingly, and some lines and scenes are taken directly from the episodes themselves. I had a lot of fun with those scenes.

The first bit you're about to read is a fantasy like sum up of what has happened in DNB previously, what makes up the world. The key thing you have to know is that this world was created by one idea: What if Bruce quit being Batman instead of making Dick Robin? Other Batkids are also here. Enjoy!

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**_Sacrifice _**

_Once upon a time there was a dark knight who protected his kingdom with valor and bravery, outwitting the slime of the earth at every turn. He had few allies: a talented blacksmith who gave him armor and weapons, a chief guardsman who worked with other goodhearted men to help when the knight could not, a kind healer who was there in his greatest times of need, and a faithful servant who raised him into the man he was now. For a time this knight, who was secretly also the crown prince, did well, protecting his people and destroying the evils that plagued his people._

_But one night, when he took some time to do his princely duties, he failed to stop a crime upon a visiting troupe. An orphan was made, with nowhere to go and unable to continue with his parents' friends and allies. Though the lower authorities said they would handle the boy, the crown prince, also an orphan, took the child in as his own._

_For a season the prince managed to hide his status as the dark knight from the lad, but the boy was astute and could not be shaken so quickly. He wished to join the knight on his quest, to do the same as he did. He helped once and took to the role like a fish to water. But the road the dark knight took was not fit for children. It was not fit for fathers either. It was time to put the armor away, in favor of his crown and raising the newly made heir apparent. The lad was not entirely happy with his choice, but it meant more time with the man he'd grown to love and respect._

_As the years passed, the crown prince took in two more lads of different standings in society, as his own. The first prince welcomed his new brothers joyfully, glad to have others to talk to and fight alongside. But the knight's armor stayed in its place of honor._

_A lass born to their enemies joined them, becoming the princess of the castle. She fought just as bravely and strongly as her new brothers, if not better. And the armor stayed where it was, a legend soon to be forgotten._

_The vile men of long ago returned, attacking the kingdom, and the royal family. The first prince suffered at a traitor's hand in front of his new father's eyes. Justice was heaped upon them in full, and yet the dark knight did not return._

_An engagement between the crowned prince and the princess of a very powerful country was declared, then retracted when the woman was declared barren. The kingdom rejoiced then grieved for their favorite leader, and wondered what happened to their other protector. Times became worse._

_Seeing his people's need for protectors, but feeling he could still not return to the armor save to ensure it fit, the crowned prince took it upon himself to call the greatest warriors together, knights and wizards of justice like himself once. He agreed to give them all they needed, if they would just protect his kingdom and his home. His skills with the sword had not diminished, but his best abilities came from his mind, and that was what he offered most. The heroes agreed, eager to bring justice to the people and protect such a kind hearted prince and his children. Word spread of the deal made with the dark knight, letting many who remembered him smile. Their protector never left them, just took a step back to care for others._

_In time rumor came to the crowned prince of his former love having lied about being barren, and had conceived a son. His son. Using all his resources, he reclaimed his blood heir, just a babe who needed his father more than anyone. The pieced together family gladly took in their newest member, the first young prince smiling to himself._

_The dark knight himself had taken his child home, his armor fitting even better now than when he put it to rest. It went back into its place once the child was home._

_Many trials came to their lives, many. Nary a day passed by when something did not go right. Many times the crown prince's children would beg him to take up the armor again, to take one of them, or all of them, as his squire. They wished to defend his people too, to be like him in this sense. But like the day he first put the armor away, he believed this wasn't a life meant for children, and he would not let them be orphaned or abandoned again. He would protect his kingdom and his family with every fiber of his being._

_But sometimes his protective nature only made unrest in his children's hearts. They were growing, and needed to spread their wings. And none would have a harder time stretching them than his first._

**1 –** **Sorry, Not Robin. Not Really**

Idly Dick laid on his bed, flipping through old photographs in one of his albums. This one was a gift Alfred put together for him years ago. It had every picture they could find of his circus and parents, his birth parents. Many of them included him, whether as a baby or a toddler or older, it didn't matter. There was even one of his mom pregnant with him, along with a joke note her friend put with it.

_Mama-bird and her baby Robin_

He smiled affectionately at the picture and inscription, shaking his head slightly. His mom originally wanted to name him that. Robin. His dad made her compromise with Richard, like the king in Robin Hood. His mom loved telling him the story behind her pet name for him. For a brief time he didn't even respond to Richard. His dad called him Dick and his mom Robin. Who exactly was Richard?

'_Kid logic._' He flipped another page and looked at his old circus friends, particularly their costumes. He was supposed to figure out what to wear to a Halloween party, not reminiscing about his life before living at Wayne Manor. Hero theme. He wanted to make a brand new identity, one where his circus roots applied. Problem was, it couldn't be a clown. Clowns were forbidden. A clown would be easiest in all honesty, but no one wanted to be reminded of Joker. Not in Gotham.

"Knife thrower? Nah, Damian might try to grab one. Strong man? No way. Too much spandex. Babs would have a field day with it." As much as he wanted to impress her during her visit from college, he was not about to give her any more ammunition for later. She had enough as is. He looked over to another page. "Grand Vizier? Maybe. That turban looks easy to make. Bet Alfred would love to dress me up in that."

"Why not just go as yourself?"

Dick threw a scowl at his brother as he slipped into his room uninvited. Ever since Jason hit puberty, he was growing higher and higher in the annoying scale. Well he could always be annoying, but it felt like he was making more of a point of it these days. That bugging Dick or Tim was his goal in life. Wouldn't tease Cass though because he valued his life too much, and he couldn't torment Damian due to him being three and a screamer, leaving the two of them free for the taking. Course it was better than he was about that time last year, when he was in a perpetual state of shock after Joker's attack. That wasn't near as much fun as he was now. Jay was mostly over it now, but that white lock in his hair served as a constant reminder that it happened.

"I mean, all you've got to do is put on your pjs and a red towel and you're a shoe in for Uncle Clark."

"I want to do something original Jaybird. And you really should knock first." Jason smirked as he knocked his head a couple times, earning a short laugh from his brother. "Cute. So, figured out what you're gonna be?"

"Yep!" He grinned impishly. "And it's gonna drive Dad up the wall."

"You sure you want to do that?" The acrobat eyed the younger teen for a moment as if he'd gone crazy. Wouldn't be that much of a leap really. "Bruce has quite a temper."

"He'll let it go this year," he waved off. "Probably destroy my props afterwards but it'll be worth it for one night of fun and seeing his face like that."

"So… what are you doing?"

"Secret!" The little punk grinned impishly at him, wanting to spoil the surprise and wait until the right moment to show it off. Yeah, the teen definitely could be crazy. Brain damage? Or was this just Jason on hormones? "But I'll show you it before Dad, kay? For a once over."

"Sure, whatever." Dick flipped another page, looking at the picts again. He had something more important to think about than his brother's mental state. May as well blame puberty, so much faster. "Not like Tim and Cass aren't doing the same anyway. And since Bruce is doing a cop-out costume that'll take longer to put on than everyone else's, I'll probably be dressing Damian too."

"What's he gonna be?" The younger teen plopped on the bed next to him, looking over his shoulder curiously.

"A cat. I know," he started, knowing Jason was rolling his eyes and slightly groaning with him, "kinda lame, but give him a break. He's three."

"We should make him a little Green Lantern."

That started a fit of giggles in the older boy. "And then we'd both be grounded. You know Bruce's still upset with Hal for crashing that last jet right?"

"Yeah I know," he shrugged. "Dad's mad at a lot of people. Is it possible he has PMS?" Dick laughed again, having wondered that himself sometimes. Sometimes it was like B was bipolar with that temper of his: so much more patient with them than with anyone else. "Anyway, hear anything on that new GL flying around?"

"Guy Gardner, former football quarterback. Heard he's a bit of a jerk, but his heart's in the right place, usually. That's the redhead. The other new one, the black guy, he's John Stewart, former marine. I think Bruce is going to get Hal to recruit him for the League reserves or something." He flipped another page, scanning pictures. "He's supposedly more responsible than Guy and will work with a team better. Dunno for certain, not until we meet them at least."

"Which'll be never, knowing Dad."

"Exactly." About six new official League members had joined up over the past four years, and only two of them knew who the mysterious 'B' was. Everyone else in the League, whether on the reserves or the other four actives, thought 'B' was just a retired Batman, and a fat old man at that. Superman, Wonder Woman, Martian Manhunter, Aquaman, Flash, Green Lantern (the founders), Green Arrow, and Black Canary, were the only ones who knew the Bruce Wayne connection, and they were sworn to secrecy. Though 'Uncle' Clark had gotten away with telling his parents (who were made honorary grandparents to the Wayne kids), Oliver Queen couldn't tell his former protégé and ward Roy Harper a thing. And frankly, it got on the next generation's nerves, on all sides of the board. After all, Speedy was the first sidekick; he earned the trust of the League by now.

"How did you know all that anyway? Do you sit around reading every file on Dad's computer?" Jason wondered out loud.

"Sometimes. I get bored and read about their adventures every now and again. Got into the habit of checking on League activities after last year." Bruce wasn't really doing a good job at that point, too worried about Jason and his shocked state to think clearly. Back then, Dick took B's place, helping out whenever he could. It was a bit addictive, so he kept up on League stuff ever since. He looked up to the teenager again, glaring slightly. "Why are you here?"

The ten shrugged. "Damian can't find his Bat-kitty and is crying up a storm in Dad's study. Did he leave it in here earlier?"

"Don't think so…" The perpetual big brother got off his bed and started looking around the room with his visitor. The two of them were playing in there earlier, bouncing on his bed. Alfred would have their heads later but it was worth it if Dami got a chance to just be an excitable toddler. Well, he was always easy to energize, but he was a lot quieter than most kids when he first arrived at the manor. Now he was making sentences and didn't get shy around them. Huge improvement. Still bit Tim on occasion but that was them.

After about five minutes looking around his room, the two gave up. "Maybe it's in the nursery?"

"Checked that."

"Cave?"

"Alfred's looking there."

"Parlor?"

"Cass didn't find it there, or anywhere on the ground floor." Jason shook his head, frustrated about the search. "Why did you give him that cat? He won't even take a nap without it."

"Don't dis the Bat-kitty. For he is cute and powerful." Dick smirked slightly. "Besides, you still have Bat-bear."

"He's still cooler than Peanut, _Robin_." He inclined his head to the elephant resting comfortably on his bed. It was one of the few things there Dick could truly call his own, something he had since infancy, and he wasn't about to give it up. "I can't believe that a senior is still sleeping with his baby toy."

"I've heard of college kids still sleeping with their baby blankets," the acrobat chided as they left his room to keep looking. "Some people just need the comfort more than others is all. And I like her, okay."

"Whatever Dickybird." The younger teen thumbed down the hallway. "I'm gonna look this way and check out the gym. Maybe he forgot it in there or something."

"Bruce call the office?" It had to around there somewhere. Frankly it was weird seeing Damian without the toy.

"First place he checked after the usual spots."

That made him blink, a light turning on in his head. "Usual spots…"

Quickly Dick turned about and near ran to one of the largest rooms in the building, the grand foyer. Jason stared after him for a moment, confused but shrugged, letting it go. He wasn't one to follow the oldest around like a duckling anyway.

Not checking to see if anyone was looking, the acrobat leapt of the banister and onto the chandelier. Quickly he swung from the metal and plastic (this was the fourth chandelier they had to replace since he moved in) toward a high alcove on the wall. He released into a roll, then landed perfectly in the display place. Once his feet were under him again, he spotted his target.

"Ha! Thought so." He picked up the favored stuffed animal from the dusty alcove, grinning. Damian had a tendency to climb into it on occasion (how they weren't sure) when he wanted attention, or just when he wanted to hide something. He could see Tim's rubix cube, a couple of his books, and a favored pen up there as well. To quote Selina, Damian lived to troll Timothy. It was one of his favorite past times. "Must have forgotten he put it up here when he swiped Percy Jackson."

Looking at the growing stack of missing items there, he smirked. Dami was one really determined kid, just like his dad. One by one he dropped the books onto a couch not too far away, ending with the cube and pen. He also tossed down a couple paper planes and one of Jason's CDs before looking back to the toy. Bat-kitty occasionally flew, but being up there made him a bit dusty. It was one of those rarely reached and touched up places after all. He really should make this hero a bit more presentable, especially since he made it to look a lot like the real deal.

He wiped off as much dust as he could, looking over every inch of the cat's costume. Making it was pretty fun, especially since it was for the Batman's real son. Well, first literal one that is. If things kept going the way they were with Selina, it was likely there'd be more blood relatives soon enough. Bat-Cat hybrids. And this thing was made before the two started going out.

Looking over it another minute, he remembered the days Bruce wore the costume every night. Back then it was a very real possibility that he could be a hero too, if Batman would have him as an apprentice. It was one thing he wanted more than anything. To be the Dark Knight's squire, to fight along his side, to take down bad guys every day and every night, to bring justice to those who slipped through the system. It was something he longed for. Even now.

But instead of taking him along as his partner, Bruce retired the suit and took his responsibilities as a parental guardian seriously. Dick had the life most kids wanted, and he was glad for it. Not everyone had a father figure who paid that much attention to them and gave them nearly everything they wanted. Jason and Cass' dads were far from ideal, and many others in the high class were more likely to shove their kids to boarding schools instead of taking them to school every day. Bruce was far from perfect, with missing quite a few events due to work and later supporting the League, and from his overprotective tendencies which ran them up the wall. But the man was trying, and most days that was enough.

But still, he wished he could have had a chance to fight by his side for more than taking down the man who killed his parents. He even drew pictures of costumes he would have…

Remembering those pictures and all the squashed possibilities from so many years back, Dick's eyes widened. "That's it!"

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A/N: You like? I hope you do! like I said before, this is from DNB, but I wrote up a first chapter and intro I hope will explain that world a bit. And maybe get you to read it (yes, I'm shamelessly advertising. It's awesome!). If you want spoilers for this story, read that one. I think 50 to 70 is the arc and there was like... 8 more pre-arc chapters(?) that are in the story, some split up and a lot edited. I'm also working on post arc resolution there so after the final chapter, if you want to know what happened between the end and the epilogue, you'll have to look there. A lot of added chapters are here though since I didn't want to overdo it there. This is the extended version. The title will make a lot of sense at the end.

FYI, there are some small things I have standard in the DNB chapters, like ages and the rules. I'll explain the Wayne Rules at the end of each chapter that uses them and the kids ages as of this moment are: Dick-16, Jason-13, Cass-11, Tim-9, Damian-3. The story starts mid/late October, ends in late April.

This version is 55 chapters total and I'll post one chapter a day minus Sundays so I can take a break. this is completely written up, and unless you point out something that's contradicting itself (please point those out), I'm not going to change it or add much more to it. If you have questions, I'll answer individually in PMs, not here. If I don't answer, it's no offense to you, it's just that I'd be spoiling things if I did answer. As much as I love doing spoilers, there's way too many out online right now for this story alone. I'm keeping my yap shut this time around. If you have suggestions for the DNBverse, I'll take them. It's mostly a fun loving, family fluff verse.

Think I've hit everything. Mostly, just read and enjoy. When will it be clearly a rendition of the Apprentice episodes? Well, Ch.6 hints at it, Ch.7 directly quotes it with modifications, Ch.15 when it's glaring you in the face. Enjoy!


	2. 2 - Costumes

If this looks at all familiar, then you've been reading DNB. I split up one 20 page short into 4 chapters. Added and edited these parts to death too. Anywho, enjoy!

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**2 –** **Costumes **

"Jason, I really don't think that's an appropriate costume." Bruce eyed the thirteen year old's accessories with distaste. It specifically violated rule 2, even if they were squirt guns painted black.

Jason just grinned impishly at his dad, his jade eyes sparkling. Brown leather jacket, grey tank, black gloves, boots, and pants, plus the gun holsters he had on either side of his hips, he was one bad dude. And he had a hockey mask painted red to go over his face whenever he felt like it. He thought it was perfect. "It's perfectly appropriate! I'm an anti-hero! A bounty hunter!"

"They aren't heroes," his father reminded him, pinching his brow. He knew this night was a big mistake. "They're just outlaws who don't go after the good guys."

"Exactly!" The teen grinned from ear to ear. "The bad guys will never expect it when someone like them takes them in. And with a mask, they wouldn't know who they are! Same concept as every other hero, with a twist."

"And the guns?" That was the part he really objected to. The rest of the costume was fine. It was what this 'hero' would use that bugged him. He hated guns, forbade them in the house (except Alfred's and on-duty police officers), and even insisted no one speak about them around him. And Jason was violating each part of that rule.

The kid seemed proud of that, patting himself on the back. "How far away can a person get from Batman if they use guns?"

His dad cringed, looking back to his own costume. He didn't want to think real hard, and he didn't want to borrow Kent's uniform. So he was wearing an updated model of his old Batman uniform, complete with a well-stocked utility belt. Never hurt to be prepared. So long as he smiled and used his normal voice, no one would ever put two and two together.

Well, Selina might, but he was honestly starting to think it wouldn't be a bad thing if she knew. They had a very loose relationship at the moment, mostly because of their individual pasts. His playboy days were well behind him, but not her thieving. Though she had recently seemed to go on the straight and narrow (thanks to his encouragement and giving her a proper job), he wasn't holding his breath. The only 100% positive thing he knew about the woman was she wasn't a killer and he could trust her with his children. He wasn't certain if she'd sell out his old identity he still moonlighted as when dealing with the League, so he hadn't told her the truth yet.

But maybe she'd figure it out tonight. Curse Halloween and people's theme parties. He should have just let the kids go trick-or-treating.

"Point."

"Besides," Jason grinned as he looked over to the others coming down the stairs in their costumes, "I'm nothing compared to Dick."

That impish glint in his eye told Bruce enough. Something he'd disapprove of more than guns was part of that teen's costume. Wonderful. But he turned and watched the others come downstairs, smirking slightly anyway as their getups came into view. He'd know what was going on soon enough.

First was his eleven year old daughter, who had consulted him about her costume. Cassandra put her costume together herself, a patchwork female version of his own costume. All black cloth except for the outline of a gold bat on her chest and her yellow belt. She put some nylon on the inside of the eyes to hide them instead of using white lenses or having openings for her mask. She could see and breathe fine, but no one could tell who she was under that mask. Batgirl was ready to take on the criminals of Gotham.

Tim was next, dressed like Catwoman actually, all black mock-leather, even a kitty cap with yellow goggles on top. The nine year old too had a utility belt, but it was dark and it was clear his pockets were empty except for the normal tech he kept on hand. He even had a Cheshire grin on his face, completing a Catlad persona. Bruce didn't know whether this was a bad premonition or not.

Damian was slowly making his own way down the stairs, grinning from ear to ear, in a normal kitten costume, also black. The three year old toddler loved cats and refused to dress up as a hero. He had to be a cat. Three kids in black, just like their dad. It was going to be easy for others to tell where these three came from.

"Well well well!" Selina followed Alfred in, newly arrived and wearing her usual Catwoman gear, grinning. Bruce looked over to her once, smiling a bit in spite of himself. She was as beautiful and seductive as always, though she did tone it down around the kids. Everything was zipped up tight. Well he didn't need to see skin to know how wonderful she was. The way her eyes danced right then was enough. "I think I'm flattered. We've got two kittens and two bats. And what are you? A serial killer?"

"Got the last of the fruit loops this morning," Jason joked, making his father roll his eyes. The woman laughed at the teen, loving how clever the kiddos could be. This was why she meshed so well with the others; she knew when to play along. "Moving on to frosted flakes tomorrow."

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! PRESENTING…" Dick's voice rang out above them all. Their eyes flew to the top of the staircase, knowing well the acrobat's need to perform. There was a flash of yellow before their eyes caught sight of the circus boy, leaping over the banister and onto the chandelier.

"DICK!" Bruce shouted in immediate alarm, his heart leaping to his throat despite knowing the kid would be okay. They had a very strict rule about this. It was the third chandelier at that location after all, fourth one that was replaced.

But the sixteen year old didn't hear. He was too busy swinging forward and back before letting go into a quadruple summersault and landing on the couch to spring off it, flipping over the back and landing perfectly on his feet. He turned about on a dime, grinning from ear to ear. "ROBIN! THE BOY WONDER!"

"What have I said about... _What are you wearing_?!" Bruce gaped at the teen's costume, unable to see why the others giggling around him found it so funny. A green leotard with sleeves under a bright red vest with an R on the left hand side. Green pixie boots and gloves, and a yellow cape and belt completed the getup. The black domino mask tied around his face, plus the messy hair, made him look like a cheap sixties tv sidekick! He wasn't wearing anything on his legs!

"My costume!" Robin grinned. "I tried nylons but I kept ruining them. So I just shaved my legs."

"Ooo… Gutsy." Selina grinned broadly, admiring what she was seeing while the other kids laughed. This boy was turning into quite a looker. "Gotta admire a kid who'd shave his legs for a party."

"Change." The man of the house ordered, all humor leaving his face. This was not a laughing matter. How could he even consider leaving the house like this?! He was asking for trouble, if not from pedophiles then from conservatives crying indecent exposure. CPS would be all over him.

Dick gave him an are-you-kidding look. "Why?" He looked up and down himself for a minute. "It's not like you haven't seen this before. It's just like my costume back in my circus days. Just much bigger."

"I'm pretty sure if you stayed in the circus, you'd be wearing pants." Bruce continued glaring at the oldest child there.

"It's not that big a deal," he retorted, rolling his eyes.

"You've just broken both rules 6 and 9 right now." Though Bruce didn't usually enforce those rules, this time he was. They were more for Alfred's benefit than his. It was a good thing the old man had returned to the car to prepare for their departure after dropping Selina off inside, or he'd be having a heart attack. Dick gave him an incredulous look.

"Oh yeah," he waved over to the next oldest sarcastically, "and you're just gonna let Jay break rule 2 like that."

"Goes with the costume," Jason joked, pointing out why Bruce went with it. The man's jaw clenched at the mention. He didn't want that pointed out to him, not now. He already tried reasoning with one boy and lost. This...

"And this is _my_ costume." The circus kid grinned, making his point to their dad. "Don't you think this is a stretch for 6?"

"Dick—"

"Daddy," Damian started, reaching up to him in hopes of getting his attention and being picked up (after all, he was a cute kitty cat now). "Get candy now?"

"We're already late," Tim pointed out, waving back to Dick. "And really it's not that bad."

Dick rolled his eyes. "Thanks for the support Tim."

"It is getting late Bruce," Selina edged on. She really didn't want to help babysit all night long, even if two of them were cute kittens right then. "And what's wrong with him learning his lesson at the party? Peacocking like that is pretty normal for boys this age."

"Peacocking!" The teen looked downright outraged at the idea. His sister was still giggling at him, though very quietly.

"It's how they attract mates," she added impishly. This won her a quick glare from Bruce, border lining on alarm. The teen looked away blushing slightly. The lady nudged the man slightly, encouraging him a little. "Bet you dressed like that when you were his age."

"I did not!" Bruce objected loudly, slightly offended. He never dressed like that. Even Batman had pants!

"Sure you didn't." That sly smile on her face told everyone there she'd be asking Alfred later. Selina decided to pick up Damian and start guiding the others to the waiting car. "Come on kiddos. Candy's awaiting."

"Ooo…" Jason grinned as their dad's girlfriend took charge of the situation. He cast impish looks between them all as they started moving. He then waved one of the 'guns' at the other two and followed suit. "Come on. Can't wait to see how your legs freeze out on the dance floor Dickybird."

"Hey, it's Robin tonight." He grinned and strode past Bruce, figuring he won that round. "And who are you supposed to be? The Red Jason?"

"Red Hood." The trouble maker's ID took both those left for a spin. Red Hood? Jay put the 'gun' back in its holster. "Thought it'd be a good way to prove I'm over that nut, better than him."

"With guns." Their father shook his head, sensing an oncoming migraine. These two were insane. One making himself pedo-bait and the other naming himself after his tormentor's former identity. Where did he go wrong...

"Nah," he continued to grin. "That's just for me. Race ya!"

"Hey! Wait up!" Dick tried to follow him when he took off, only to get his arm grabbed by Bruce for a moment. "What? We're gonna be late."

"We're not finished." The scowl on the man's face told the teen plenty. "Go grab some pants."

"You let Jason run around with fake guns and I'm not allowed to run around in a leotard?" The way they matched glares, it was hard to believe they weren't blood relatives. After a minute, Bruce let go of his arm, realizing he was becoming a hypocrite. He shouldn't have let him have those 'guns' either.

But for the moment, Dick was right. The teen grinned to himself. It wasn't often he won an argument. "Come on, we're late enough already."

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A/N: Glad people are liking this. So yeah, here we have everyone but Dami referring to their alter egos in other universes. I kinda like the idea of a Tim being Catlad/Stray, and earlier in DNB I gave him and Selina a bonding experience. So yeah, he would do this. Cass is her version of Batgirl, Dick's in his original Robin costume, and Jason's in a pieced together Red Hood uniform done by a 13 year old kid. FYI, I've never seen Friday the 13th or any major horror flicks, so when I saw an ad about the other Jason with the hockey mask (that is him right?), I just thought it was a funny coincidence. The cereal killer joke is one me and a few friends use a lot. Selina and Bruce didn't want to think about their costumes so they just act outside their norm while in costume for a night.

Rule 2 - No speaking of, using of, or anything to do with firearms (guns) in Bruce's presence or on manor grounds. Alfred and on duty police men are the only exceptions. This includes super soakers, laser tag, nerf guns, and shooting games. You will not be getting any of them, ever.

Rule 6 - There are inappropriate subjects out there. Do not talk about them, especially around younger siblings and in public. This includes potty humor and R rated material. Refer to rule 1

Rule 9 - The furniture and banisters are not toys or jungle gyms. Do not jump off of, swing on, slide down, climb up or use any fixture outside of how they were meant to be used. Also do not juggle smaller house hold items, like vases or glass figurines. Refer to rule 1

Before you ask, Rule 1 - Alfred's word is Law. Anything referring to Rule 1 means Alfred wanted that rule and he's the reason why it exists. You may be able to get away with things with Bruce, but not Alfred.


	3. 3 - Halloween Parties

You're gonna see I'm a bit of a geek here. All the characters mentioned are real. Anyway, enjoy!

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3 – **Halloween Parties**

"Told ya you were gonna freeze."

"Shut up Jason." Dick moved around the large ballroom, trying to find a place to warm up a bit. Maybe the leotard was a bad idea. But at least he got Barbara to smile. In fact, she was still laughing at him. She promised to dance with him later, but she came to the party with her dad, and he wasn't up to letting her dance with almost anyone.

Course Bruce was hovering too. Why were they stuck with nosey helicopter parents?

As he moved around the room to avoid Bruce's disapproving stare and get warmer, he took in his surroundings. The Harris' were pretty good with parties. Their marble ballroom was huge and their chandelier was near impossible to jump on to and swing from. Course with all the red, orange, and black steamers coming off of it, plus all the orange light strings, it wouldn't have been a good idea to start swinging from it anyway. The lighting was just enough to create a spookier mood, but not dark enough to frighten children.

Which was good because there were a lot of little kids there trying to get candy running around. It was partly a high class 'trunk-or-treat', a safer place for those paranoid parents out there (coughBrucecough) to take their kids. Some games and activities were in neighboring rooms for those who were interested, even karaoke. Everyone was required to dress up as a superhero, and the kids were encouraged to make up their own. There would be a contest at nine for the best ones before the kids started heading home for bed.

Since no one would believe they were the real deal, Bruce was Batman (who laughed at lame jokes and carried a kitty-cat Damian on occasion) and Selina was Catwoman. She was teaching Catlad, or Tim, how to swipe candy from a bowl so he could get twice as many when Bruce wasn't looking. Batgirl found her more golden counterpart (Barbara) and the two of them were trying to give her dad (pretending to be Captain Marvel) a heart attack. Jason was holding up people with his painted squirt guns and demanding candy on occasion, but mostly he was bugging Dick and making jibes at his girly legs.

When he wasn't moving around to find some warmth, the acrobat was dancing with someone, talking to someone from school, or trying to flirt. Girls giggled a lot when in groups. Normally he would have stuck around Babs, but with both their father figures on the lookout, it was best not to look too friendly. They might realize they were still sneaking out for dates or messaging each other whenever they could. They were very much against the two of them dating at the moment, strictly because Barbara was an adult and he wasn't. Very annoying.

As the night dragged on and things started winding down in other rooms, he was more interested in getting warm than talking with people. He really should have worn tights instead of a leotard. And combat boots. But he always wanted to try this outfit again. He hadn't worn this kind of outfit since he was eight. For a moment he fingered the R on his chest, smiling sadly.

The anniversary of his parents' deaths wasn't too long ago. Eight years without them. His mother had put an R on his new costume the night before they…

He closed his eyes for a minute before he looked around again. They'd want him to be happy, and for the most part he was. Half his life now was with Bruce, Alfred, and his siblings. Life was good, when Bruce wasn't being a pigheaded, overprotective, paranoid idiot.

But sometimes that paranoia paid off, and rubbed off on him. Dick's eyes narrowed behind his mask as he spotted something. Something that gave him a very bad feeling. "Hey Jay."

"It's Red Hood, _Robin_," Jason sneered. His brother tried not to roll his eyes. He always made fun of Dick's mother's pet name for him when he got the chance. And boy did he have the chance tonight.

"Yeah, whatever." He pointed to the person dressed like Vigilante, a lesser known western hero. "Does that gun look real to you?"

Red Hood pulled up his facemask and glared over to the man he was pointing to. His eyes narrowed a fraction before the teen nodded, frowning slightly. "Looks like it. And not a police issue one either. Could be street level... maybe."

"Thought so." And judging by how it hung on the man's belt, he was certain the thing was loaded. That bad feeling started to swell within him. Dick looked around and spotted a few more 'heroes' with guns. Jonah Hex, Bat Lash, Jonny Thunder, mostly western heroes. There was one who looked like Malcolm Reynolds from _Firefly_, but after getting closer to the guy, he saw it was just a spray painted nerf gun. His wasn't the only one. Looking around the place, Dick noticed about a dozen people with real guns, all of them at the ready for use, and none of the carriers were cops.

"We've got a problem," Dick murmured to Jason and Cass as he finished making it around the room. She joined up with them when she left Barbara for some drinks. Cass gave him a curious look behind her cowl while Jason just watched their backs. After who knew how many kidnappings and hostage situations they'd faced, each of them knew what to do if a dangerous scenario popped up. So he told them what he saw, and what he suspected.

"I think we're about to get held up."

"We should tell Dad," Cass immediately stated. She only had to take a quick look around to come to the same conclusion. One thing the girl knew was how to spot trouble in a heartbeat. Dick shook his head, causing both of them to raise eyebrows at him.

"Commissioner Gordon's here," he said evenly. He looked over to the older cop and knew he was getting ready to leave. Barbara was looking around her as well, probably looking for Dick or Cass come to think of it. She had promised him a dance. "Bruce would tell us to get to the car and then tell him. By then it could be too late."

"So what? You want to take out the middle man?" Jason murmured, still watching the gunmen. Dick nodded. "Better hurry then birdboy. I think they're making their move."

He looked around one last time, seeing what his brother saw. The men were getting antsy, forcing them to move quickly. They were about ten feet from the Commissioner and his lovely daughter when 'Hex' took out his gun and started firing at the ceiling. The other cowboy heroes copied his move, starting a panic. Dick didn't think twice before grabbing his siblings' collars and pulling them under a covered table, hiding them all from view. Instinctively they covered their heads, with their big brother keeping them as close to the ground as possible for extra safety. Screams and chattering glass filled the air, joined shortly by miniature explosions from where the sound system was, once. After more screaming and shots, dead silence surrounded them all. The eeriness of it all was broken only a minute later.

"May I have your attention please!"

The three little heroes let go of their heads and slowly peeked through the cracks between table cloths to see their assailants. Roughly a dozen people, all western themed. Their identities were hidden by mask and make up like their models or with bandanas if they hadn't any. All the nerf gun holders were among the bystanders around the room. Through one crack in the table cloths, Dick could see Bruce shielding Tim and Damian with his body, Selina right next to them. Only the three year old was visibly scared; the other three were glaring behind their masks. Commissioner Gordon was also glaring at the head gunman while trying to protect Barbara. She seemed just as calm as Dick and the others hiding under the table.

The leader, 'Hex', was grinning as he started explaining things. "As you all know, this is Halloween. Me and my friends are going to do some trick-or-treating here, so I want you all to hand over the goodies. Now don't think that your pretty little costumes can't have anything of worth on it; I know you types. Antique pins, real gold, good weaponry, I know you have something on you worth at least ten grand. If it isn't part of your costume, it'll be your wallets, your cellphones, and that lovely jewelry of yours. Don't bother calling anyone. We've got a signal jammer in place and cut the phone lines here long ago.

"Now if you'll be so kind to hand over your valuables to your nearest trick-or-treater, this will go a lot more smoothly. Resist and…" 'Hex' grinned. "Well, wouldn't want to scare the kiddos any more than we already have now, do we?"

"Okay," Jason murmured, watching the men through the crack, "now what?" He looked over to the other two, slightly exasperated. Though each of them had kept their heads, none of them were fond of being victims.

"Think the signal watches will work?" Cass asked curiously. She kept a lookout over the crowd and the men moving around outside their hiding place. Old sacks were open and going around the room, gunmen attached to them. This was not looking good for them, at all.

Dick cringed, shaking his head slightly. "The League is all off world, all the lead members at least. The reserves don't know who we are. No one's coming."

Jason looked through the crack again, glaring slightly. "Dad can't do anything with everyone watching. They'll connect too many dots."

"So we're on our own." The three of them locked eyes as they tried to think this over. A dozen men with guns, sixty to eighty hostages. What was the likelihood of a mishap? Of someone picking one of the kids as a shield so they could run off safely? Plus what if one of those guys actually searched Bruce or Selina or even Gordon? All of them kept their gear on them. Exposure to some extent was imminent. They couldn't let it get that far.

They were on their own. And they had to act fast.

The three of them looked down thinking, remembering the terrain best they could. After a few minutes, Dick gave them a huge grin. "Got it. Okay, this is what we'll do."

* * *

A/N: It took a little digging to get that many western heroes, but Malcolm Reynolds is a character I like. The nerf guns in spray paint was a trick a friend told me about when she was trying to get us to go steampunk for a comicon. Thought it suited him.

So you have a little more background here. It's been eight years since the Grayson case. Dick and Barbara have a 'secret' relationship and she's 18. Both Gordon and Bruce have a problem with it because of the ages, not the people. They'd back it entirely if it technically wasn't illegal. The fact that he likes Babs so much is important for the conclusion. As for the watches, the Waynes all have tracers/watches to use in case of emergencies. More details on that to follow.

Next time, Robin, Red Hood, and Batgirl take flight.


	4. 4 - Rule 5

Now a fight, and the problem with being a hero without a secret identity.

* * *

4 – **Rule 5**

"Well well well now," 'Bat Lash' loomed over the actual Batman, poking him with his gun. Thanks to the mask he didn't know what he was up against, but he was more focused on the pouches than what laid behind the cowl. "Trick-or-treat pops. Empty the belt."

"For candy?" Batman raised an eyebrow at his assailant. He wasn't about to open up his belt, especially since everything inside it was designed to take down criminals like these. He hadn't figured out a discreet way to take them down yet, but there were other things to worry about. Damian was shaking in his arms and he hadn't seen his other three children since before shots fired. Selina and Tim were taking everything well so far, but his date's instincts to run away were getting stronger and Timmy had always hated the sound of gunshots. She was ready to rabbit any second now, taking the kid with her.

"I doubt there's just candy in that belt." The bandit pulled back the hammer on the gun, pointed straight at the Bat's head. The sharp gasps around him were lost on him as his mind carelessly flew back to that fateful night long ago. Just what he needed, to relive his trauma when he was needed most by those he cared about.

Thankfully that was when the streamers above them decided to fall, along with a lot of balloon popping. The sounds and drifting papers out of the corner of his eye made him withdraw his gun in surprise. "What the hell?"

A dinner plate was thrown perfectly into his hand, knocking the gun out of his hand as it fired off into the ceiling. Cackling soon followed, along with other dinner plates being thrown around the room, knocking even more guns out of hands. "Hex! What's going on?! GAH!"

With a couple more solid plastic plates thrown into the man's body, mostly his head, 'Bat Lash' was down and out. All the gunmen jerked around towards the tables, pointing their guns at it. But they couldn't see anyone. It was too dark to see clearly. "Get out from under there! Or so help me-"

He didn't get to finish his statement 'cause another plate shot out of a darker area, hitting his temple hard and knocking him clear out. With the head of the group out cold, the others started to panic. And so did a certain guardian.

'_What are they doing?!_'

Batman's night vision lenses were on most of the night so he could see everything clearly. Jason stood near the tables, preparing something from the food and drinks lying about there. Cass was halfway up a nearby wall, climbing towards one of the decorative alcoves currently keeping certain high hanging items in place. Dick though, he was the kicker. The teen flitted around the room, keeping both out of the way and nearby to distract the men, throwing plates at odd intervals. And cackling. He was being the distraction.

"Show yourself!" one man panicked.

"Ya want me?" Robin jeered. "Ya got me!"

Within a split second, the teen was out of the shadows, charging at the second in command. He narrowly dodged each bullet fired at him before making it close enough to slap his gun arm away, then kicking him in the chest then face, almost walking up him. Immediately he flipped back to regain balance, crouched low and swiped a kick under his feet before he could even blink. No. 3 was down.

"That was fun. Who's next?" The kid grinned up at the next gunman.

"Son of a—"

That earned the bandit a swift kick in the teeth. "Watch your mouth! There's kids here!" A quick elbow blow to his neck took that one down. "_That's_ rule 6 Calamity Jane."

"Get 'em!"

All at once the gunmen started charging at Robin, firing on occasion as they were wary of hitting their allies. The teen grinned at them, digging one hand into his own utility belt as he dodged each shot. Again he was in the air, flipping over his opponents, but also striking one of their nerves and tossing marbles and jacks at their feet to trip them up.

He weaved through them, heading back to the table while taking out the legs of another man with ease. The marbles tripped a few of them up, sending a couple of them sprawling and landing hard on the jacks, pointy ends diving into each of their skins.

As more shots were fired, the boy wonder slid under the table cloths, just as the table was flipped over for extra cover by Jason. During Robin's distraction, he had moved all the liquids onto the one table and now every kind of drink, from koolaid to wine, spread over the floor and onto the men. A row of cakes also splattered all over the guys left, blinding them temporarily and jamming a couple of their guns.

The string of lights above them dropped on their heads, all small, but already made unstable because of the previous shots fired at them. While blinded and distracted by even more falling ropes, Robin gained his second wind, leaping over the toppled table and grabbing the swinging cords to wrap around the remaining volatiles. Just as he finished his last go around the group, he tightened the makeshift lasso, making the men clash heads.

"I'll take it from here son."

Commissioner Gordon's hand grabbed Robin's shoulder, startling him slightly and nearly letting go of the cord he was using to strike out just in case. Behind him he could see other off duty cops coming out of the woodwork and tying up the down and out gunmen around the room. One of them was roping one he missed and another was being pinned to the ground by Barbara. He hadn't paid as much attention to others after he came out of the shadows himself. The crowd wasn't completely full of scared rich folk. His grand distraction made it possible for those brave few to take a hand and save the day.

Robin gave a relieved smile, relaxing a little. He handed over the last bit of the cord to the older man, letting go of the whole problem. "Just doing my part sir. And I think we've got this pretty much wrapped up."

"One can only hope." Jason came out from behind the tables at last, glad this fiasco was over. Cassandra dropped from her vantage point a few seconds later, coming towards them eagerly. Gordon was already at work, reading the assailants their Miranda Rights and cuffing them with zip ties. The three of them grinned at each other as the crowd gathered around them, very interested in their young heroes. "Not bad for our first time in the field eh?"

The boy wonder laughed. "Not bad at all."

"Hey kid!" Someone came up to the brightly colored mock hero, who was now a hero. "That was amazing! Where'd you learn all that stuff?"

"Oh, here and there," he tried, waving it off. Dick really should be getting back to his family, but the attention was pretty cool. He hadn't gotten this kind of attention for what he did since the circus.

"Kiddo! Jack Ryder, Gotham Channel Five. Can I get a statement?" The guy had a mini camera on him, a good quality one. Had he been recording the whole time?

"Holy…" Dick's eyes went wide at it. He wasn't shy of a crowd, but cameras still got to him on occasion. His early days with Bruce and those things always in his face were a bit traumatizing.

"Hey!" Jason jumped next to him. "Don't we get a say in this? We helped save the day too ya know."

"Don't take all the credit Dick," Cassandra piped in, still hiding behind her cowl. They both said it just to tease him really. Cass hated being the center of attention. It was one reason why her entire body was covered now.

The teen laughed, then hung an arm around each their necks. "Couldn't have done it without them! Jay here came up with that table thing and Cass came up with the end play. I was just getting all the bad guys' attentions. Shame about the cake though."

"I know, isn't it?" The kids laughed at their joke before more questions came their way, most of them aimed at Dick. He even pulled off his mask after five minutes of talking, grinning broadly as the news people and a few victims came up to talk and say thanks. All the while he could see a large dark form in one corner of the room, trying to get closer to him. There was a slight scowl on his stony face, despite the many distractions around him.

And that look did not bode well.

* * *

A/N: heh heh heh... liked the fight? I'm not that great at fight scenes, especially with multiple characters involved, but this one when fairly well. Jack Ryder is a real reporter in Gotham, and he just made Dick's life difficult. As for Bruce's reaction... Well, there's a bad side to being the oldest: you're responsible for everyone younger than you.

Rule 5 - When kidnapped, become as small and unnoticeable as possible, then find a way out. If they keep their attention on you, wait until you're alone with one of them before making a move to escape. Well behaved captives are left alone longer than smart mouthed kids, and aren't harmed near as much. Don't bother with revenge, just get out of there and somewhere safe as fast as possible. We can track them down later.

You'll be seeing a theme with the Rule Chapters. B3


	5. 5 - The Argument

There's a lot of versions and speculations about what happens next. This is mine. What's important is that it happened, not what it is about or the circumstances around it. Enjoy!

* * *

5 – **The Argument**

"Alfred, mind putting the others to bed?" Bruce pulled his cowl down, glaring slightly forward. One hand was on Dick's shoulder and the other held on to his phone. He made a series of calls on the way home, very, very grouchy and quiet with every call. The teen couldn't for the life of him figure out why the guy was so ticked. He knew he was, but… why?

"Of course sir." The butler helped guide the little ones towards their bedrooms, despite protests from Jason and Cassandra. Tim and Damian were too tired to object at all. "Come along."

"Dad," Jason tried, some concern on his face due to the man's scowl, "what are you—"

"Bed," he ordered sharply. "Now."

"But-"

One more glare silenced any protest from the rest of them. Damian was too sleepy to care, laying against Alfred's shoulder already, and Tim was trying to keep himself awake long enough to get to bed on his own. Cass sent a worried look to Jason, who likewise wondered what was going on. They knew Dad was in a bad mood all evening, ever since Dick showed off his costume. So what if it didn't have normal pants. It was no reason to drag their older brother away for a lecture.

But one more look from both Bruce and Dick, saying it was between the two of them only, and they stopped trying to interfere. All four of them trudged upstairs to their rooms, ready to sleep despite sugar and adrenaline running through them. Once they were out of sight, Bruce tugged Dick towards the study. "This way."

"Why'd you send Selina home instead of just letting her stay the night like you planned?" This earned the teen a sharp glare, which only increased the kid's uneasiness. Neither of them spoke until after they were in the cave. Batman had to put away his suit after all. Not liking the silence, Dick started the conversation. "Okay, what did I do wrong this time?"

"Do you know what you did back there?" The sharpness in his voice put the teen on edge immediately.

"Saved everyone's lives?" He thought it was pretty obvious. Robin saved people's lives and their property. Not to mention helped with arresting at least two wanted felons. Not a bad night over all.

"You put everyone in danger with that stunt of yours!" The Bat glared sharply, his temper rising by the second.

"Nobody was hurt," the bird tried to convince him before things flew out of hand.

"This time." Warning filled his voice, something they were both familiar with. "You were lucky they weren't willing to take out their own men! I didn't teach you to fight so you could risk your life like that."

"No, you taught to save myself and others," the teen shot back. "You used to do it all the time!"

"Do you remember why I stopped?" He gave a piercing glare now, striking the teen through the chest. Of course he remembered why. Because of him. To safely raise him and then the others. To make sure they weren't orphaned again. "You could have gotten Jason and Cassandra killed!"

"They volunteered! And their ideas worked didn't they?" Dick shook his head, trying to make him understand. "We took a few risks. So what! Everything turned out alright."

"You got lucky."

"I call it planning."

"You could have been shot!" Some worry entered his shout. That was what he was really worried about, Dick and the others getting hurt. If a bullet struck any one of them that night...

"You would have been!" This made the man take a mental step back. Dick breathed in and out hard for a moment before continuing. "You froze up when that gun was pointed at your head. We had to act fast."

"I didn't freeze up! Gordon was there, he had a plan. As a _civilian_, I was following it." Jim had to have had a plan. He was counting on it. His trusted ally inside the police department all these years, in and out of the cowl, was definitely able to outsmart those gunmen.

"They were watching him!" It was true. A gunman stayed near the commissioner and a few other cops through the entire thing. They knew who he was and the danger he presented. "They were watching everyone! The only ones they weren't watching were us!"

"You need to trust him to do his job!" Couldn't this kid see how much danger they were in?

"Like you used to? _Batman?_" The irony in his voice was not lost on the man.

"I trusted him," the man insisted. "But I wanted to help, in my own way."

"So do I!" Dick took a step forward, earnestly trying to convince him like he tried so many years before. "Bruce, I've _always_ wanted to do this! I _never_ wanted you to retire! I wanted to join you in the field, not keep you home! _This_ is the life I've wanted!"

"So you want a life of constant danger? Fearing for the lives of those around you? Not knowing if you'll make it home every night because someone got lucky? Not being able to have a real relationship because the job keeps getting in the way?" These were possibilities Alfred told him when he donned cape and cowl. His fears and close calls. He couldn't have a serious relationship until he put it aside. He didn't really have a life until the cowl was away.

"What relationship?" The teen stabbed back, ignoring the rest. "You won't even let me date!"

An older argument brought back for airing. Did they have to start this up again? "Dick, you're too young to—"

"To what?! Know what I want in life?!" Every ounce of the teen's body shook as he made his stance clear. Dick was done being told what to do. Done with all the restricting rules and policies. Done having to be obedient all the time. He wanted to be his own man, for once in his life. "Bruce I'm sixteen!"

"Exactly! You have no idea-"

"I know exactly what I want Bruce! I've seen it! I want to do this! I want to _be_ Robin!" He tugged at the R on his chest, earnestly trying to convince the man. This really was what he wanted. "You saw how it went tonight! I kicked their butts, saved everyone's life, and no one got hurt!"

"You were lucky! That's all!" Really, that was all. The kid got lucky. Previous experience tied with strokes of luck is what saved them tonight. Couldn't he see how close he was to being hurt? Those bullets came so close to him, Bruce nearly had a heart attack. He was terrified for the boy! How could he be so reckless!

"Was it luck? Really?" The teen's body screamed frustration. "Even Catwoman thought I did a good job. Is that why you sent her home? Because she was praising me?!"

"This isn't about her!" Why was he bringing Selina in on this? She had no place in this debate.

"Why not! You're sleeping with her!"

At this the man's eyes grew wide in anger. How dare he… Dick threw his hands up to change the subject, just as angry. "You know what? You're right. It's not about her. It's not even about me saving all those people! It's about you not letting me make my own decisions!"

"Dick!"

"I'm sixteen years old Bruce!" His voice rose several decibels as he told him what he thought was really wrong here. "I can make my own choices! If I want to be a vigilante or a cop, it's up to me! If I want to have a date with Babs, it's my choice! If I want to go skydiving—"

"Not under this roof!" That was not going to happen. This kid had no idea what he was getting himself into.

"That's the problem! Right there! You won't let me do anything I want! Your rules! Your plans! Your agendas! I don't have a single say in the matter!" The boy wonder flung his hands at him, indicating exactly where he felt the problem was.

"You have no idea what kind of danger you're putting yourself into!" There was a problem. Dick didn't listen! He thought—

"I know exactly what I'm doing! You just don't trust me to do it alone! I'm not a little kid anymore!"

Yeah right. "I'll believe that after I see it! You are a kid! No matter what you say! Now promise me you won't—"

"NO!" He glared burning daggers at the man. "You're not my father Bruce! Stop telling me what to do!"

"Dick!" The teen turned sharply and ran back up the stairs into the manor above, leaving the dark knight in the dust shouting after him. "Get back down here! Dick!"

But his shouts were ignored. He started following after the boy but stopped as the full implications of what he said hit him.

'_You're not my father…_'

A bolt of lightning struck him, forcing him to take a few steps back. '_Not my father…_' His head went into his hands as he stumbled away. '_Not my father…_' Numbly he slung into his chair. '_Not my father… Stop telling me what to do!_'

'_What have I done?_' Dick had been with him so long, he almost forgot he wasn't really his. For years he thought of him as his own son and so many people commented that he was. And to be told otherwise by him… The pain and numbness flowing through him was unlike anything he had experienced. Those words hurt him more than any bullet or knife wound.

'_You're not my father… Stop telling me what to do!_'

How could he have forgotten, let it slip by? Dick was always so childlike, time had seemed to slip pass him. Sixteen. The kid was sixteen. Sixteen wasn't that young anymore. There was only a seventeen year age gap between them. Why didn't he see this coming? But most of all… '_What have I done?_'

* * *

Dick didn't just slam his door and lock it. He dragged his desk in front of it to keep everyone out. He did not want visitors; he did not want to talk. All he wanted was Bruce to give him some space! That was all! He was sixteen years old. Sixteen and a half really. He was a senior too! For eight years he obeyed every stupid rule (well mostly) and been a very good older brother. He did what Bruce wanted him to do, regardless of what he wanted. He stopped the man from making horrible mistakes even, watched his back and took up his duties whenever he was having problems. But the guy just wouldn't let him grow up! Wouldn't let him live his own life!

Okay, so wearing a leotard and pixie boots was probably a bad idea, but he didn't regret saving everyone that night. He never would. Why would he? It was great! He saved lives, fought bad guys, and honestly it was fun. He never could go all out like that before and it was great to finally get to. The thrill of it all… so addictive. He missed it from that night he and Batman took down Zucco. He missed it from his days at the circus. What he did tonight, he'd never regret it.

Fighting with Bruce? Well… the guy deserved it. Dick rolled over on his bed, half his costume strewn about the room, trying to ignore his uneasiness and focused on his anger. Bruce deserved it. He really did. That was the only thought that could satisfy him as he tried to drift off to an uneasy sleep.

* * *

A/N: Yes, that is "The Argument" in the DNBverse. Wasn't that the real reason they fought in the comics? Robin wanted to be treated as an adult but Batman wanted to keep him close and safe? Not sure. Finding a copy of it is really hard. . Anywho, one of the bad parts about being the older sibling is that you're expected to be responsible for the others. if you headed a plan and your younger siblings took part, you took the brunt of the disapproval and punishment. Because of the argument distracting their dad, Jason and Cass don't get punished. Lucky them. Too bad both Bruce and Dick are so stubborn. They're gonna make everyone else's lives a bit miserable with their infighting.

Next the plot thickens, and you start to see why Dick didn't run off after their fight.


	6. 6 - Stalker

Now it begins.

* * *

6 - **Stalker**

He was just flipping through channels when he saw it. Right there on the evening news, the perfect specimen danced before his eyes. The boy practically was dancing the way he moved across the screen. Each blow he made was direct and precise. The use of weaponry, even feeble ones, could only be compared to a professional. The only flaws he could see were the need to be dramatic and how easily he worked up a sweat. Both could use improvement.

"Well well well… to think Gotham's royal family had a true warrior hidden among them." He paused the image and grinned. The video was only fifteen minutes long. Someone had cut the video short of revealing the kid's identity to the public, even prevented the anchorwoman from saying any names after the first time. Someone was stopping the story before it spread too far, probably to protect the kid's privacy. Too bad all the information he needed was already provided.

Besides, he enjoyed a good hunt.

* * *

The back of his neck prickled, making him look around curiously. Someone was watching him. It was a sense he picked up years ago before with his first kidnapping. Or was it from the first time he was bombarded with question from the press without Bruce around? Either way, he knew someone was watching him, and not in a good way.

"Dick? What's wrong?" Tim looked up to his brother, pulling on his hand. He had promised to take his siblings out to an ice cream or coffee shop after school to make up for ruining Halloween after the party. Easy to do now that he had a license and car of his own, just a little harder to arrange. But a short walk around the central shops on the northern island was worth it if it gave them a sense of freedom for a few minutes.

But with someone lurking in the shadows watching them, they weren't going to really get any of that. The problem with being a rich kid: no privacy. "Nothing much. Just a feeling."

"What kind of feeling?" Jason looked around too, trying to see what the older teen sensed. Dick was usually very perceptive. Cass was looking around as well, looking up more than down.

"Almost like someone's taking my picture," he admitted. "Someone from the tabloids looking for dirt."

"From where?"

"Not sure…"

"Whoever's watching us is really good at hiding." Cass gave a frustrated huff before giving up and looking at shops again. They hadn't picked a place yet. "A lot better than that photographer last week. How about brownies and cocoa?"

"I think that last nut gave me a rash," Jason admitted, scratching his shoulder. He pouted a bit when he saw a closed sign. "I wanted ice cream."

"Only southern states sell ice cream this time of year." Dick lifted the collar of his coat with one hand while unconsciously attempting to shield Tim from whatever person was watching them. He tightened his grip on the boy's hand at the very least, keeping him close. He made a point of holding on to his kid brother ever since his last kidnapping last spring, which seriously rattled everyone since he was gone without any signs he was alright for over twelve hours. No one made a fuss about it, especially Tim. Even if it was just bat-paranoia (a very highly intuitive protectiveness Bruce instilled in them) it never hurt to be cautious. "Kinda a shame. They come up with pretty interesting ones this time of year in Arizona."

"Maybe we can get the brownies ala mode?"

Jason smirked, satisfied with that answer. "Sounds good by me. Cass and I can split it then. So, you in _Robin_?"

The oldest rolled his eyes but still looked around suspiciously. He really couldn't shake the feeling. If it were just him, he'd probably push it off as paranoia. But Cass felt it too, and Jason to a lesser degree. Someone was watching them, and he didn't like it. "Sure. Just pick a seat near the back door and—"

"Away from the windows." His siblings' united chorus got him to look at them, raising an eyebrow. Jason gave him a snarky you're-being-ridiculous smirk. "Yes _Dad_."

"Hey!" Caution was thrown into the wind as they teased each other all the way to the Ma and Pop diner on the corner, ignoring the sensation of being watched once again. They were the richest kids in the city; of course someone was watching them.

* * *

He smiled to himself. Impressive. Most people couldn't sense it when he watched them. The boy hadn't quite found him yet, but he was looking in all the right places. The man just knew where to see and not be seen. It took some time to find the lad, and figure out his routines, but it wasn't that hard. Richard was quite predictable, and very easy to read. As good as this boy's defenses were, he clearly had a weakness. One weakness that was easy to exploit.

He cared too much.

And that was all he needed to know as he put his plans into motion.

* * *

A/N: Three guesses on who's stalking Dick. And the first two don't count. I know this chapter's short, but the next one is huge and like I promised, a blatantly obvious reference to everything I promised. Having a big cast though kinda sucks.

So even the batkids are paranoid. They have to be. By this time the group has been kidnapped at least half a dozen times. On their own, who knows. They get taken a lot, Tim more than anyone because of his age and also because of Drake Industries (one of his code names is double millions boy because he can be ransomed twice over for both companies. Fun times). Developing a sixth sense about watchers is a survival mechanism they all develop, along with a habit for choosing that kind of seating. I'm gonna stop rambling now. See ya monday!


	7. 7 - Goose Chase

Taken straight from the first apprentice episode, with added characters and minus one. Hope you like!

* * *

7 – **Goose Chase**

The display showed only one person, one they didn't want to see anywhere except behind bars. "Slade!"

"_Good morning Teen Titans. I do hope I didn't wake you._" His cool voice sent chills down a few of their spines.

"What are you? An insomniac?" Beast Boy didn't bother stifling a yawn. He really needed his beauty sleep. "Who calls at five in the morning? Ow!"

Raven elbowed him to shut him up. He wasn't the only one who hated being woken before they were ready. Wonder Girl glared at the screen, taking charge of the situation. "What do _you_ want?"

"_Well now, haven't you figured out even part of that?_" There was some spite in his voice, something they knew always came whenever he talked to them. He hated them, what for they weren't quite sure of yet. The guy didn't divulge that much information during their fights. "_No, I guess not. After all, you are all merely children._"

"Children who've kicked your butt a few times over," Speedy shot at him. He really didn't like the guy. He targeted him for a while, but then said he was a disappointment. Apparently he wasn't 'quite right' or was 'lacking' somehow. Every condescending remark made him want to floor him, beat him black and blue, and riddle him with arrows. Unfortunately, this guy was way too good for him to take down, even once, on his own. They made a team rule to never go head to head with Slade alone.

"_Perhaps, or maybe I was just humoring you all. Children playing hero need someone to fight, don't they?_"

"Why don't you try saying that to our faces you one-eyed cre—" Cyborg was cut off before he could string enough insults together.

_"Since you've been unable to discover my plan,_" Slade started, keeping his voice cool and level, "_I suppose I'll just have to reveal it myself. Give you a fighting chance._"

The Titans' eyes narrowed, recalling all the latest heists the guy had organized. Lots of tech thefts, sometimes from thieves who pulled off huge ones a while ago. They were trying to figure out exactly what was being built, but nothing fit quite right. They only had rudimentary computer and techno babble down, and machines made from random parts weren't really their expertise, yet. They were still learning.

A couple Slade-bots pulled back a sheet behind him, revealing a large odd contraption none of them recognized. "_I'm sure you're all familiar with the concept of chronotron detonator._"

A series of disbelieving gasps filled the room, along with a few confused looks, particularly from Beast Boy. "Uhm…What's a crouton detonator?"

"It irradiates all chronotrons in a localized area!" Starfire explained to him, frightened at the idea. "Utterly destroying the temporal component of the space-time continuum!"

"Huh?"

"It stops time," Raven translated, "permanently."

Beast Boy immediately went into a panic and fainted dramatically. Aqualad was at his side, trying to rouse him while pushing back his own concerns. This wasn't good. Cyborg did a quick calculation before stating how extensive the damage would be. "If he triggers that thing downtown, it'll freeze frame the entire city."

"Tell us where you put it!" Their leader and archer shouted, near in unison.

"_You're clever kids,_" the villain on the screen taunted. "_I'm sure if you put your heads together you can figure it out. However, since I control the detonation, time is not on your side._"

The signal cut, making those at the console upset enough to try hitting it. Donna left a nice size dent in the metal. It was just then that Kid Flash finally appeared. "What'd I miss?"

"Oh, just the end of the world as we know it," Garth murmured, having finally gotten Gar back on his feet. "What took you so long to get here?"

The speedster gave him a long look. "You try figuring out a good excuse to get you out of school for a couple hours. Thankfully my aunt's really good at coming up with excuses. So why the call?"

"Just Slade and a chronotron detonator." Roy's attempt at sarcasm failed to make his friend happy. It only made him jerk back in surprise.

"Seriously?! He made one?!"

"He says he did." Donna glared at the screens, trying to figure out where the signal came from. Cyborg was running a few programs to try and backtrack its origin not too far from her while Raven looked over the video feed to try and narrow down the search. "And he's planning to detonate it. Where and when, we don't know."

"But that thing is like near impossible to make!" Wally mentally reviewed all the Star Trek he'd seen in his life and all the other scifi shows that could possibly help. Not to mention hundreds of science journals. He and his uncle had a lot of fun with those. And last he knew, they were still trying to figure out a way to pause reality in a controlled environment. Wasn't going too well. "How could he—"

"Don't know," Cyborg admitted, "but you know bad guys. They tend to get tech way more advanced than we've ever run across."

"I'm getting nothing here…" Their leader, Wonder Girl, Donna Troy, gave an exasperated sigh as she turned to the others. "From what I could tell it looks like a warehouse. We should fan out and—"

"One moment." Raven called all their attention back to the recording, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Slade gave us more information than he realized. Here, in this reflection." She brought up a portion of the screen, zooming in on the bomb.

"Ooo… Squiggly lines." Beast Boy wasn't impressed, and getting antsier by the moment. His mouth tended to run away with him under those circumstances. "Way informative."

The reflection she found was flipped and focused a bit clearer, becoming easy to read. Starfire gasped dramatically at the sight of it. "Pier 41!"

"The docks!" Roy concluded. Raven gave the green changeling a reproving look as he shrugged and grinned awkwardly. Well, that showed him.

* * *

There were Slade-bots waiting for them at the warehouse, but not the bomb. The fight was relatively easy, considering how many times they took those things down in the past, but it was frustrating that they were fighting robots instead of people. At least then they'd have some kind of lead to the time-killing bomb. They debated splitting up to search for it, KF ready to run at sonic speeds if only to hurry up and get back to Central (senior year, nearly time for finals, worst time to get called out to stop a mega-villain), but Aqualad pointed out it'd be a waste of time. They needed to find some way to track the device. Speedy had cornered a pier worker to interrogate when Starfire sneezed. Explosively.

"Gesundheit."

"Forgive me," the alien princess started. "I am allergic to metallic-chromium. There must be a source near—Achoo!" Everyone took for cover before the second sneeze sparked. As soon as the dust settled they came back into view. "Sorry."

"Interesting…" Cyborg started.

"Not really. On my world chromium allergies are quite common." Star held a finger under her nose to stop herself from sneezing again.

"No." He looked over his instruments, verifying his suspicions. "The key component of a chronotron detonator is a metallic-chromium core. Which means…"

"Starfire can track it!" Beast Boy grinned at her. For once, _she_ was the perfect hunting dog. The girl just sniffed in response.

* * *

They did not like following the trail into the sewer system below. Or irrigation system. Or tunnels. Or whatever these huge catacomb things were called. There were no fish to get some help from down there, just cockroaches and rats. And using Starfire's nose as radar required they move slow. It really ate at them.

"Does Slade even realize what goes on down here?!" Kid Flash complained. He really needed to get back to school asap. If his parents found out he ditched physics (one of his favorite classes), they'd be on his case faster than… a fly in the sewers.

"Dude, this place is so disgusting…" Beast Boy joined in. As much as he liked being a hero, being covered in filthy water and whatever else was floating in it was not something he enjoyed.

"There it is!" Speedy pointed towards a raft floating just fifty feet away from them. A Slade-bot was adjusting the detonator, probably to stabilize it and prevent it from going off early. It saw them and immediately went over to the raft's controls to get out of there.

"Titans! GO!" Wonder Girl and her team flew and ran forward, gaining as much space as they could between them and it. The boat started to shoot at them as it fled, forcing their leader to pick up Speedy to gain ground while Starfire took Cyborg. The shots nearly hit them a couple times, irking them greatly.

"I am not taking any attitude from a boat!" Cyborg returned fire, trying to hit the guns aimed at them. Aqualad tried to adjust the currents to make it go another direction, but it barreled on through like it was nothing. Seeing that the only way to end this quickly was by hand, the metal teen pointed his pilot toward the deck. She nodded once and flew ahead, releasing him after a moment.

"Thanks for the lift!" Quickly he made his way to the Slade-bot controlling the raft and threw it overboard. Speedy took a shot at it for good measure, barely able to use his bow in that position. When the boat didn't slow down, they all realized it was on autopilot, making things harder. Cyborg took control of the wheel while Starfire dropped on deck and KF leapt on board, going for the control panel. Neither seemed able to control the craft. "How do you stop this thing?!"

Kid Flash rapidly typed in as many codes as he could into the panel, hoping he'd get lucky and find the right sequence. Instead he overloaded the system with wrong codes and made it go faster. Cy already ripped off the steering wheel and now the thing was going out of control! Desperate for a handhold, he grabbed the panel and accidentally ripped it off, short circuiting the entire system. Miraculously that was all they needed to do to stop it. It coasted to a stop inside a large cavern leading several other directions.

The rest of the team came on board as soon as they could. Raven saw the broken panel and gave him a doubting look. "Please tell me that's not how you're planning to stop the detonator."

Cyborg looked at the panel in his hand and paled slightly. "Uh…"

"You do know how to stop it, don't cha?" Beast Boy focused his hopes on his best friend. Out of all of them, he had to know. Kid Flash was more of a chemistry/physics wiz then techie.

"How hard can it be?" The old protégés gave each other nervous glances as he came over to the machine. They remembered saying things like that and getting in major trouble for it. Cyborg came up to the device and started poking around its outer shell, trying to find an opening. He brushed one panel and the top popped upwards, surprising him. They could now see most of its inner workings, and it was straight out of Star Trek. "Oh."

"Whatever we decide to do," Raven noted, "we should do it before Slade decides to trigger this thing."

"Right…" Wonder Girl looked over to the controls and grimaced at the state they were in. "Can't steer this thing out of here can we."

"Even if it were working," Speedy noted, "none of us know how to navigate through here. This place was made with lead and all our GPS's are screwed."

"Slade really did his homework." Aqualad looked over wearily to Cyborg and Raven, working on dismantling the contraption. His know-how, her telekinetic powers, they were the ones best suited to handling this. The rest just wouldn't abandon their friends and wanted to see this through. If they were going to be frozen in time, they may as well be together standing as heroes.

"No kidding. I mean," KF looked around the place, seeing all the off shooting tunnels, "how else do you transport a giant time-stopping bomb without anyone knowing about it? I wouldn't be surprised if we're right under city hall right now."

"We're working over here!" Cyborg's chiding shout made the four of them look away in embarrassment, silent once more. "The chromium core is highly unstable. So no sudden moves."

"Then shouldn't we—" KF's question was cut off by Starfire starting to sneeze. He was about to suggest she take a few steps back or go over the water ironically. Before anyone could reach their alien, Raven put a force field around her head, keeping the explosive sneeze inside a very well contained bubble. "Never mind."

"Please continue," she whispered with an awkward smile.

Taking a deep breath, Cyborg made a decision on what to do first. He opened the end of one finger to make a mini blow torch and pointed it towards some of the wires below. "Okay. Now all we have to do is decouple the—"

A higher pitched hum came from the machine as he severed one small cable. Beast Boy childishly hid behind his friend's shoulder. "Well that doesn't sound good."

"Ah crap Vic! What did you do?!" Speedy nearly leapt out of his skin while his friends started to crowd their tech.

"I'm doing the best I can!" He looked over the device, trying to assure himself that he was making the right choices. He had to be right. Raven had exposed all the wires and pieces, all he had to do was take down the ones controlling this thing.

"If we get stuck in space time and die, I'll haunt you forever tinman!"

"Everyone just calm down!" Donna looked over everyone, trying to get them to stop fighting. Inner turmoil only added to stress, and Vic had enough as is trying to save them all. Gar was biting his nails to keep himself quiet, but everyone else chose to just look around nervously or watch him anxiously. She did her best to give him a reassuring look. "It's alright Cy. Do what you need to do."

Glad she was on his side, Cyborg looked back to the detonator again, making a decision. He brought the flame back to the cables. "Moment of truth y'all. Everybody ready?"

"I can't watch!" Beast Boy exclaimed, covering his eyes for a moment before peeking through them. He wasn't the only one to do so. Kid Flash kept running his hands through his hair and Aqualad was debating taking a dive to save his own hide. Everyone held their breaths.

Swiftly he cut two more cables almost simultaneously, bringing the humming to an end. Everyone slumped away, breathing out in relief. Alls well that ends well.

But then a new hum started, jerking them all into alarm. A glow spread from the core into the wires next to it and all over the exposed insides of the detonator. The top part collapsed. Beast Boy immediately freaked out. "We blew it! We'll be frozen in time forever!"

Everyone jerked back in a panic, instincts telling them to run as far away as they could. But then the thing sparked, shot off some steam, and started to collapse on itself. Realization hit most of them before the green one stopped panicking. "Uhm… Why are we not frozen in time forever?"

"Because this wasn't a chronotron detonator…"

"It's a fake!"

As soon as those words left their mouths, each of them were hit from behind by a laser blast, sending them into the water. The spots they were hit at burned for a moment, but cooled quickly in the liquid surrounding them. Each of them swam to the surface, looking around to see how the others fared.

Wonder Girl really wished she pulled back her hair that day. Long wet hair in your face didn't help under these circumstances. "Is everyone alright?"

Beast Boy put it out best. "Belch! So aside from the nasty taste of sewer water in my mouth, I think I'm okay."

"Diagnostic sensors say I'm just fine," Cyborg added, checking his systems briefly. The turbines under his feet were the only things keeping him afloat. Everyone else confirmed they were physically alright.

"Whatever that beam was supposed to do, it didn't do it," Raven concluded. They all exchanged confused looks. What had just happened?

"Then… we are victorious?" Starfire suggested with a smile. The boat containing the fake bomb and laser beam thing burst into flames, jerking all of them out of their thoughts. They stared at the flames for a moment in shock before things completely clicked in their heads.

"No… we were sent on a goose chase!"

"Aqualad!" Their leader took command before they could get into a heated debate. "Send us to the surface! I'll get the manhole!"

"Got it." Quickly the water around them spewed upward, rocketing them to the streets above. Wonder Girl hit the manhole with her fist then started bringing everyone she could up top before the water receded. As soon as they were on dry land though, everything about the scenario came out into the open.

"What the hell just happened?!"

"Looks like Slade sent us on a wild goose chase for some reason," Donna admitted. "Some kind of distraction."

"Meaning he had another goal while we were running around for this crouton detonator," Beast boy surmised.

"But what?" Raven looked around the city skyline, not seeing any smoke or fire. There was only the regular bustle of the city too. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

"Ah dang it!" KF growled at all of them, but mostly at the memory of Slade. "I ditched school for this?! Sorry guys but I gotta bolt." And with that he was gone, leaving the others to try and figure out what the criminal mastermind was up to.

* * *

A/N: Dun dun DUUUNNN! Seriously, I watched that episode about a dozen times to get the lines right. Putting in Garth/Aqualad, Donna/Wonder Girl, Wally/Kid Flash and Roy/Speedy, was fun too. Fun and hard. Donna and Roy are a cannon couple, and the Flash family is notorious or being late to everything. I tried to make them as close to the characters and story as possible. Hope I did alright.


	8. 8 - Youtube at Lunch

Back to our favorite bird

* * *

**8 – Youtube at Lunch**

"Hey Dick!" Freddy O'Hara took out his iPhone and brought up a vid, passing it over to his friend at the lunch table. "Have you seen this?"

"What is it?" Dick repositioned his head to make sure the sun didn't blot it out, a cheap sandwich from the vending machine in one hand. He overslept that morning and forgot to raid the fridge for lunch before shooing his siblings into his car so they wouldn't be late to school. Didn't happen very often but when it did it was very inconvenient. Plus his friends gave him odd looks when they saw the sandwich.

Freddy was one of the few that didn't care and shared cool youtube vids whenever he could. This one was titled 'Wonder Boy PWNs Cowboys'. The acrobat's eyes widened in surprise as he saw something that happened almost a month ago. "You."

"'Wonder Boy'? It was 'Boy Wonder'!" His friends laughed as they crowded around the one phone, watching the vid. "Seriously! I told Ryder it was 'Robin Boy Wonder' and that he better not get it wrong. I've got nothing on Wonder Woman."

"Yeah sure." Travis Murdock pointed at a certain flip that sent the teen soaring through the air. "Tell me you can't fly."

"Not like Superman." Dick couldn't help but grin at the sight. That was a really good move. "It's all about momentum. With enough practice, anyone can do that."

"Where'd you learn that trick!" Sean Bond pointed to a flip-turn-kick, his eyes bulging at the sight, one that rendered the gunman unconscious.

He cringed a little. "My sister, believe it or not. She's really good. She just needs to see a move twice before she can do it, and by the end of the day she turns it into an art form."

"I still can't believe you took down twenty guys on your own like this," Jessica Tanvern gaped, wincing at a well delivered blow at another guy.

"There was eleven and it wasn't on my own." He grinned at her anyway. "I was just the lead showman. The cops in the crowd got about half of them. How far has this vid gotten anyway?"

"Everywhere!" As soon as the fight ended Freddy pulled back up the page, showing the views. "Two million and counting. You should sell tickets."

"But my name's not even on there, see?" Dick pointed to the credits. No mention of his name anywhere, and the vid cut short of him taking off his mask. No one knew who did this. "I can't take credit, at all."

"Why not?" Sean leaned away, looking at his friend curiously. "You saved lives and spoiled a robbery. And you looked good doing it."

"That's a matter of opinion." They all snickered at the costume again.

"Why can't you take credit for this?" Jess looked over him, little curious.

Dick gave a long sigh before admitting things to them. "Bruce won't let it happen. He buried the story after it got out so it's now a tabloid rumor or a thing on youtube. He says it's for my safety but…" He sighed, shaking his head. "That guy… You should have heard the lecture he gave me after that. And when he told me not to accept interviews or act out like that again…"

"You two've been fighting?"

"A lot." He slumped over on the table, glaring at nowhere. Oh where to begin? "Every other time I'm in the room with him he tries to tell me what to do next because of some _thing_ he's thought of at work. And it always applies to me. It's gotten to the point I'm not talking to him and avoiding even being in the same room."

The acrobat sighed heavily, still upset about the argument the two of them had that night. Bruce hadn't even tried apologizing for being a stubborn tyrannical helicopter parent yet! Until he admitted he was at fault and said he did a good thing that night, he wasn't giving the man any leeway. "Don't even know how I'll survive Thanksgiving."

"Come to my place!" Travis clapped him on the back excitedly. "My grandparents will love it! I mean, I'm their only grandchild and I don't exactly have that many cousins. There's so much food left over and—"

"I'll run it by Alfred. Thanks." He gave his friend a smile, reassuring the two of them. His other friends grinned at him too, mostly because he was sticking it to the system. Teenage rebellion at its best. The only bad part about that plan though was not being able to spend the time with his siblings. They'd be the ones who'd be hurt the most by this. And he'd miss Alfred's cooking

'_I'll just have to talk to them about the pros and cons here_,' Dick reasoned, just as he looked towards the parking lot not too far from them. He almost glared at the unoffending vehicles, trying to find the source of his discomfort. Eyes were on him again, he knew it.

"This is gonna be so cool! Think you can come by my place for Hanukah then?"

"Maybe."

"What are you looking at?" Jess' concern when he gave a dismissive answer to Freddy wasn't lost on her.

"Hm?" The acrobat jerked his head around, blinking at her. Dick was so lost in his thoughts about how some camera man or stalker managed to get in the campus parking lot without security finding out, he almost tuned out everyone else. Almost. "Oh… nothing. Just… Just a feeling."

* * *

The one watching the lad not too far off smirked, impressed yet again. He nearly had him that time. As secure as Gotham Academy was, it was not foolproof. The troubled look on the teen's face satisfied him greatly. Having that near sixth sense would be useful in the future.

For a minute the man tapped on a modified cellphone, a simple message. '_Well done_' was all it said. He hit send and watched as the boy took out his cell in confusion. After reading his message, Dick rolled his eyes and typed a snort response.

'_Thanks, but wrong number_'. It made the man chuckle. He sent a second message, one that made the teen jerk out of his seat and look around like a startled rabbit.

'_Was it Richard?_'

* * *

A/N: So 'Robin' is on youtube, which explains how easy it is to find him now. He was either seen on TV or online. Either way, he showed off and the world knows there's someone out there that can do amazing flips and fight bad guys. He's also fighting with Bruce off camera, but is also trying to spare his siblings the pain by avoiding the old man as well. They have a long road ahead of them, but first they need to calm down.

Then there's the stalker... Kinda wonder how he got Dick's number. Guess we'll never know. B]


	9. 9 - Not His Imagination

The stalking continues...

* * *

**9 – Not His Imagination**

It wasn't long after he and Bruce, through Alfred, made a compromise about Thanksgiving and a public event appearance that Dick found himself wandering the streets of Gotham, long after curfew. He snuck out of the house, left his watch/tracer at home and carried a burner phone, all so he could have a secret date with Barbara. Movie and a late night snack, nothing much but so worth it if only to defy their parents. They met up with a few of their old high school friends (most were in college except the ones Dick still hung out with) and had coffee after.

Now everyone else had gone home and he wanted more time to wander. The last bus to Bristol hadn't gone yet, and he was planning on hitching a free ride on top anyway, so he turned down everyone's offers to drive him home, including his secret girlfriend's. Some nights it was just nice to just walk around.

Most of the shops were closed but looking at the display windows was fun too. He could get an idea what to buy everyone for Christmas later. It'd be fun to check them out the next day, if Bruce didn't realize he snuck out like this. Again.

He'd been doing it a lot lately, sneaking away from Wayne Manor, going off the radar, and telling no one where he was going next. Nothing on him could be traced by Bruce, he made sure of it. He bought every item on him with cash from second hand stores just so he could be invisible. And this late at night being invisible helped. Bruce keeping him and his siblings out of the media helped with his anonymity right then, so he could disappear.

But even when he was supposed to be invisible, just some kid going home late at night, he wasn't. That feeling of being watched, followed even, nagged at him full force about five blocks away from the coffee shop. He nearly forgot the creepy wrong number text he got at school a couple weeks ago, but spotting someone from the corner of his eye made him wonder for a moment. Dick tried to lose the guy via normal person methods, all the while checking reflections. He knew someone was following him. He knew it!

There was someone following him. Three someones. Big and burly guys, with cliché black ski caps and gloves to match their jackets. Three guys… '_No guns. Knives? No, doesn't look like it. Knuckles? Possibly. Taser? If they're smart. No other supplies so not a kidnapping. Not planned. Muggers. Great._'

Seeing he couldn't lose them like a normal person, Dick ducked into an alley, still weighing his options. '_Evade, attack, antagonize, or turn in? Question is, do I want a fight or do I just want to go home?_' He took out his second cell and smirked. Bus didn't cross his path for another fifteen minutes. "What the hell."

Just as he predicted, the three muggers tailed after him, only to find an empty alley. Well, empty except for an eerie cackle. It was hard not to jerk these guys around. Watching them look around stupidly for their target only made it more inviting. "So! Do you make a habit of stalking young handsome men into dark alleyways or am I just your type?"

It took another second or so of enraged looking around for one of them to spot him perched on the fire escape just above. He grinned devilishly at them, glad he hit a few nerves. "Cause I have to tell you right now, none of you are my type. Too… everything. Geh…"

"Wunna say that to my face pretty boy?!" The largest (and maybe the stupidest?) of them launched himself at the ladder barely within reach so he could grab him.

"Oh so you admit, I'm pretty." Dick just grinned at them as they tried getting up to where he was. The first (George from now on) was half way up the ladder when he stood up and the second (Steve) as starting to climb after him, some brass knuckles already in place. He kept up his mocking jabs as they came closer. "I think I'm pretty too, and the girls seem to think I am. I just don't get to hear it too much from men twice my age, and size. Well, size up here. I don't know about down there."

This really got the men mad at him, just as George came within arms distance. "Shut the f—"

He never got to complete that sentence. Dick had already grabbed the bar above him from the steps and lifted himself into a two-leg kick, shoving that guy into his partner and into the dumpster below them. Quickly he sprung forward, leapt to the drain pipe just next to it and held on as he kicked the lid own on top of them. He swore he heard heads knocking it as he shoved off the side of the building and towards the last guy (Mike).

Mike was already peeing his pants. And all Dick had to do was laugh again. This was getting fun. "What? Scared of the pretty boy? If you think I'm scary, you should see my boss."

"To hell with this!" Mike turned tail and ran in the opposite direction as fast as his two legs could carry him.

The teenager pouted dramatically. "Aw… there goes my fun!" Out of the corner of his eye he saw the dumpster lid lift slightly and quickly slapped it shut. He spotted a normal trashcan lid next to it and grinned, swiping it. Quickly he whipped it about and threw it soaring at the runner. The man never made it out of the alleyway. "He shoots, he scores! Two points! Stay." Again he slapped the lid down, glaring at it slightly.

Dick was about to tie the thing down so the muggers wouldn't escape when he saw a bus roll by. He only glimpsed the number but that was all he needed to freak out. The last bus to Bristol was early! "Ah crap!"

Instantly he leapt back up the fire escape and onto the nearest rooftop. He had to get on that bus or it'd take three hours to walk it! Bruce would definitely notice then, and nothing Alfred could do would save him. Soon he was running on rooftops, imaging he was just doing tricks at the circus to make it less dangerous in his head. It helped him with his footing and his tiring race against the bus. He sincerely hoped someone or something would stall it for a minute or two so he could catch up.

When he landed on top of the bus and hitched a free ride, he wasn't the only one smiling. In all the fight's confusion, he lost sense of someone watching him. The watcher was very impressed with his fighting abilities, his ability to use his surroundings to his advantage, even make weapons out of ordinary things. Kid thought on his feet. Catching up with his bus was impressive too.

The lad was promising. Very promising.

* * *

A/N: Absolutely love how Dick can be his awesome crime fighting self even when he isn't a hero officially. Sure he went behind Bruce's back to do things, but he was still being awesome in his own ways. The bus ride came from some issue where Jason was Robin. I don't know all the details but I loved the scene. the eerie cackle came from YJ and the snark from everywhere else. 'Robin' already did a near holy joke earlier so I kept going. If and/or when Bruce finds out about his nightly excursions, he's gonna be ticked. Then there's the stalker problem...


	10. 10 - Won't Run

Back to parenting and teenage rebellion

* * *

**10 - Won't Run**

Bruce sighed heavily, every day stresses and worries eating at him as he worked on his computer. Something had tripped his security grid the other day, coming onto manor grounds without his knowledge. He discovered a subroutine in the system a few days back that made the camera's delete certain imagery and replace it with a loop for a few seconds, just long enough for someone to get out of the camera's way. Whoever did it was good, really good, but they did nothing harmful to his family or home. It was more like someone sneaking in than B & E. Clever little devil, but who?

A spy? Possible. Someone scouting out his home for a future crime? Possible.

Someone breaking curfew and trying not to get caught... confirmed. The teenager was caught on camera, or at least his trademark jacket. Pinching his brow, the man groaned. He had been giving that kid a lot of slack lately, ever since their argument on Halloween, and all he requested was the teen being home after dark. Couldn't he just obey some simple rules for his protection? "Dick..."

* * *

Dick ran back into his room, slamming his door angrily. He pulled the desk in front of the door, locking it and securing it from any unwanted visitors. Particularly the big guy. He flopped onto his bed and tossed the suspicious text on his phone to the side. He _was_ going to talk to Bruce about it but then he brought up how he broke rule 4 and curfew, and was therefore grounded. Which just started another fight.

He caught him on camera sneaking out of the house the other night and coming back in. He also had footage of him in town past curfew. Maybe it was this old man who was stalking him! He wouldn't put it past the guy really. He had when he was looking into Dick and Barbara's relationship last term. It was why they had to keep their relationship status secret from everyone. Now he was stalking him again and sending him strange texts?!

Okay, maybe not the texts. Bruce was pretty direct when he wanted to punish people. If it was a criminal, he'd use violence or physical scare tactics. With the kids, it was usually physical labor or restricting privileges. Frankly Dick was surprised he still had his car and motorcycle with all the fights they'd been having. Especially when he kept breaking rule 4 (staying on the grid), leaving his watch/tracer in his bedroom every time he snuck out the window. If Bruce couldn't find one of them at a moment's notice, the man freaked. Dick thought he could sneak past all the man's defenses after he managed to put a subroutine into the security camera's programming, but that was gone now, found while doing a routine diagnostic he wasn't aware of. At least the man waited until they were in private to start reprimanding him.

Internally the teen groaned. He was flippin' sixteen! A senior in high school! Couldn't he give him some slack? He had a car! And a motorcycle! If Bruce would just lighten up on the curfew, he'd use them more and then he wouldn't be falling off the grid so much. Seriously! The guy was such a control freak! He had to know where he was every second of the day and it was suffocating! He'd be graduating after next term and then be going off to college. He was practically an adult! Couldn't he treat him more like one instead of like a juvenile delinquent on probation?! It was no wonder Selina vanished again. Who would want to deal with Bruce in obsessive mode?! He certainly didn't want to. That man…

A light rhythmic knocking came from his door, making his eyes roll but get off his bed anyway. It wasn't Bruce. His knocking was always heavier and the rhythm was a password he cooked up with one particular sibling. Again he shoved his desk, just enough to let that person in, if he wanted to. "What is it Jason?"

"Nice to see you too." He presented him with some brownies. "We made these at school. Want some?"

"Are you sure Bruce or Alfred would approve?" It wasn't like Dick was saying no, just warning him he may get in trouble for this.

"Who cares?" That was all the older boy needed to smirk and let him in. As soon as the two teenagers were in the room, Dick replaced the desk as a barrier. The brownies were placed on the bed between them after a minute and they started snacking. "So, what's the deal this time?"

The acrobat rolled his eyes. "He caught me sneaking out."

"You've been doing that for years!" A slight smirk crossed his face. "How did he catch you?"

"Found that trick I did to the cameras. Security updates killed me." He stuffed a brownie in his mouth, pouting. Wasn't he even impressed with what he did at the least? "Shoulda seen it coming. He's gonna be on my case about curfew for a while I bet. Really that guy is unbearable!"

"Yeah, Dad can be a royal pain in the ass, but he means well." Jason smirked at his brother's raised eyebrow. "What, think I haven't noticed? He's such a traumatized stickler on rule 2 he won't let me play any of the cool popular games. It really makes it hard to make friends when you can't talk _Halo_ or _Call of Duty_."

Dick stifled a laugh, his anger ebbing. "Well normally I wouldn't mind that, but the people I hang out with prefer late night lattes, movies, and bowling. He really eats at my social life because I want to hang out later."

"And how many robberies and muggings happen late at night?" The light glare he received made the trouble maker throw up his hands. "Just pointing it out. You were the one who told me that every rule has its reason, and you're forgetting you hang out with a lot of people older than you."

"Two to three years isn't that much older."

"It is when you're sixteen and the girl of your dreams is eighteen." The younger teen smirked. "Two years in your case is all it takes to make a relationship illegal."

"I thought you were on my side." Dick shook his head, glaring in frustration. Little traitor.

"Just pointing it out. But really, I've been wondering," he looked over his brother, seriously thinking about it, "if you really don't like where this is going with Dad, why don't you just run away? You are sixteen and can get a job. And then there's your trust fund Mr. Fox has been padding. And I'm sure Haly's Circus would love to get you back. You have a place to run to if you ever want it. So why haven't you?"

For a long moment the older teen looked over him, seemingly thinking about it. The thought hadn't even crossed his mind before and for a moment he wondered why. Then he smiled, realizing the truth. "Why would I? Bruce really is a pain, but he still took me in when no one else would. And it hasn't been all bad ya know. If it were just the two of us, I might have run, but it isn't. It's you, Tim, Cass, and Dami. And Alfred. I might have been able to run if it were just one other, convincing myself they'd replace me, but all you guys look up to me. And I've kinda gotten into the habit of being the big brother here."

He looked away, thoughtful. "I may have some place to run to, but I can't run. I won't run away from my family. I don't want to lose anyone ever again, and I'm not gonna make you lose me either. You're stuck with me Jaybird."

Dick gave Jason a grin, ruffling his hair fondly. He playfully bat his hand away, smiling a bit more comfortably. "Knock it off ya sappy clown."

"Not in a million years. Come here!" Without another warning, the acrobat lunged at him, playfully wrestling him down on his bed to deliver the worst torture known to man: affectionate tickling. Soon insane laughing and cackling could be heard through the door and down the hallways. One fretting father looked to the sound of it and gave a slightly relieved sigh.

The tension that mounted in him eased a tad hearing the two playing. It was good to hear that laugh, from both of them. It hadn't been heard through the house for a while. Jason trauma from last year had nearly chased it out of him, and Dick's constant fights with Bruce made it rarely reach his ears. With the holidays soon approaching, he had to find a way to bring it back. He had to somehow mend what was broken. Teenagers could be very difficult, but their laughter wasn't too far away from when they were children.

Bruce ran a hand through his hair, rethinking his dilemma. Problem was Dick thought one way and he thought another. If they could find a middle ground or a way to see each other's point of views, at least in matters of safety, maybe they could fix things. Maybe he could...

'_You're not my father Bruce! Stop telling me what to do!_'

The memory rang clear through his head, striking his heart yet again. Why didn't teenagers come with manuals? He seriously doubted his parenting methods these days. There had to be a safe way to teach him why he had all those rules without losing his son, in everything but blood.

* * *

A/N: Yeah, in the series, Dick ran away to jump city after the argument, right? So the reasons why he didn't run this time was because he didn't want to leave his siblings, he only had a semester of school left, and then there's Babs. Then there's the fact that a world wide manhunt would begin, but that's neither here nor there. This argument prevented any talk about the stalker right when he wanted to bring it up, then had the whole thing cast aside.

Before anyone asks about what happened to Jason the previous year, think Death in the Family (DITF). It's in the standard story for DNB and it's based off of a well known and loved/hated story. DNB just has a different twist. More allusions to the story through out this one, as it is still really fresh in their minds. If you want to look it up and just that part, DNB has a timeline for the titles so you don't have to read everything. Glad you're enjoying this!

Rule 2 -No speaking of, using of, or anything to do with firearms (guns) in Bruce's presence or on manor grounds. Alfred and on duty police men are the only exceptions. This includes super soakers, laser tag, nerf guns, and shooting games. You will not be getting any of them, ever.

Rule 4 -Always have your tracer and phone on. How can we find any of you if you're kidnapped? Report in to someone we know so we know you're alive when you don't want to be around anyone for a while. Stay on the grid.


	11. 11 - Possible Recruit?

Sorry it's short, but it features the Titans!

* * *

**11 – Possible Recruit?**

"Guys guys! Look at this!" Garfield Logan brought up a video on youtube onto their big screen TV. Thankfully it was a slow Saturday afternoon so no one minded it. Especially when they got a chance to see what was going on. Before them was a brightly colored teenager in a leotard, taking down gunmen. The way he was flipping about like there was no tomorrow and how easily he kicked these guys out of the fight boggled their minds. The way he moved… he was a natural.

"This guy is so cool!" Beast Boy's fanboy squeal nearly killed his team's ears, particularly Raven's.

"Yeah, he is." Roy smiled knowingly. He recognized the acrobatics from when he was bored at a recent party. "Fun guy too. You should see his quadruple flip."

His friends looked at him oddly. Donna looked over her boyfriend curiously. "You know him?"

"Yeah. I know him." He couldn't help but grin. It was nice to one-up those with powers every now and again, even if it wasn't in the field. Ollie may not have given him the attention he needed while they were together, but he did introduce him to a lot of people higher up the ladder. And he particularly liked this guy. 'Wonder Boy' had a good head on his shoulders and came from a background he could relate to. Helped they were once in the same situations. His brother was pretty cool too. "Dick Grayson, or Richard Wayne, depending on who you talk to. He goes by the former. He's Bruce Wayne's oldest adopted son. You know, the 'crowned prince of Gotham'. Though Dick doesn't see himself as a prince, more like a squire or a clown."

"Squire?" "Clown?"

"His words not mine." Even he thought it was strange, but that was Dick for you. Circus kids were weird that way. "Frankly his brother Jay just calls him a circus brat."

"His brother?"

"Yeah… Wayne likes kids." Roy really didn't want to go further into it. His FB feed was filled with those two complaining lately, either about their dad or about the fights Dick and he were having. He was getting to the point of unfriending both of them just so he didn't see them anymore. Things were not well in Gotham at the moment. "Picked up quite a few."

"Are they as good as him?" Cyborg thumbed over to the screen where the footage was playing once again. Donna was trying to figure out how he did one of those moves. The archer just shrugged.

Beast Boy beamed from ear to ear. "We should ask him to become a Titan!"

"Somehow I doubt he will," Speedy had said, pouting slightly. To think one of his socialite friends had some serious fighting skills… "He's got a good thing going back in Gotham."

"Still worth a shot," Wonder Girl, their leader, stated. "He's definitely got the potential, and courage in spades. He'd have to in order to take on those men without any armor. And using dinner plates as weapons? Brilliant."

"Yeah," Cyborg commented, rubbing his chin. "I haven't seen a person that good ever. And I was a star athlete in school. That guy has real potential."

"Doubt his dad would let him though." The archer leaned back in his chair, reminding them he was once one of the elite, like this guy. "Wayne's known for being super protective. His security is top of the line everywhere. I hear he even has tracking devices on all his kids."

"Excuse me," Starfire started, raising her hand, "but please explain. Who is this 'Wayne' and how is he this young man's 'Dad'? I thought those of the same family had same names."

"It's adoption," Raven stated evenly before Roy or Donna could explain it. "When a child's parents die, they can be taken into another's home. Grayson was adopted by Wayne, right?"

"Pretty much," the archer agreed. "Making him legally his father, but he obviously didn't personally take the guy's name. Some of his other siblings did though. Well, most actually. I think the youngest adoption hyphenated it. Maybe. I'll have to check my facebook."

"What about facebook?" Kid Flash and Aqualad had come in at that point, checking out what they were. KF saw the screen and grinned. "Hey! I saw this! My uncle was laughing his head off when he showed it to me. Said this really ticked 'B' off and now he's being all mopey about it. Something about that kid ruining the rescue."

"Wonder Boy PWN's Cowboys? Is this some sort of surface gimmick?" Garth was still struggling to understand why people on the surface did ridiculous things. "That uniform does not look right for combat."

"Circus brat." Roy got off the couch then and stretched. "And that was Halloween. Well, as good as that guy is, I don't think we should bug him. He's a happy-go-lucky civilian and has no clue what we do all the time. All we would do is corrupt hm."

"You say that as if it's a bad thing." Wally grinned at his friend, teasing. The other redhead rolled his eyes behind his mask and started out the room. He couldn't help but laugh though when KF said 'short pants' had some girly legs and Cy pointed out the pixie boots. Roy made a mental note to tease the guy later about the vid if he ever got the chance.

* * *

A/N: originally this was a flashback scene presented later in the story, but I wanted more of a set up out there. plus it made it more of a teen titan fic if the titans were actually in it more. Roy gets a lot more think time in this than others. He and Wally are bigger players in this story than you'd think. But seeing as they're some of Dick's best friends (not yet here but soon), I thought they deserved the most.

Next chapter's going to be about the same length, but has a subtle scene that plays a huge roll later. Enjoy!


	12. 12 - Even More Stalking

Last of the set up with Dick before the adventure starts. Watch closely, you may find something important.

* * *

**12 – Even More Stalking**

'_What the heck?_' Dick looked around for a moment before glaring forward and sulking again. That feeling was back. Again. He'd been getting it a lot, and now at the opening of a youth center it was impossible to determine exactly where it's coming from. And the scary thing was, more often than not he was right. Someone was watching him, many someones.

In the past month, he'd spoiled two kidnapping attempts, evaded a handful of reporters, and taken down five possible muggers. The fighters had gotten progressively better, but not impossible to beat. They were out of towners, people who hadn't worked with the local criminals and heard the 'Wayne kids' weren't the best targets to grab. Not if you wanted money. And these paparazzi were given good information, nearly cornering him once or twice.

But Dick was always better, at evasion and self-defense. He had to protect Tim one time and had Jason's help another time. Being attacked or bombarded by people wasn't unusual for him, or for any of them, but the feeling of being watched, even after taking down the bad guys or making his escape, was something he'd never get used to. None of this ever reached their father, keeping it their secret in order to avoid a lockdown. Overprotective bat.

Ignoring Bruce's speech, he took another look around, unnerved by the feeling he had. The nagging feeling someone was watching him, seriously watching him, wouldn't leave. It was even overriding his anger at the man at the pulpit, which in all honesty was simmering down due to the stalker sensation. He and the others had to make a public appearance at a youth center's opening, suits and all. Waiting in the seats near the stage, in the cold, was enough reason for him to scowl, but it was just being watched that made him uncomfortable.

"Master Timothy," Alfred chided, bouncing Damian on his knee as they waited for the proceedings to end, "refrain from scratching your leg."

"But it itches like crazy!" Tim changed from scratching the side of his left knee to slapping it, keeping his voice low. "I don't think that lotion's working."

"Not if you do not allow it to work."

"That's what happens when you take hikes through poison oak to take pictures of birds," Jason murmured next to Cass, on the opposite end of the row from Dick. The girl just rolled her eyes and did her best not to be involved. "Way to go nature boy."

"I can't control where it grows," the kid mumbled, pouting slightly. His hand itched to scratch that spot again but Dick covered it instead, giving him a slight smile. Seeing it, the boy relaxed a little and leaned against him. He had missed him, more than either would admit. Avoiding Bruce often meant avoiding the rest of his family. "You want to see my pictures later?"

"So long as they don't include blood and gore." That made Tim smile, just in time for the speech to end. Everyone clapped, even the three year old Damian who had no idea what was really going on, glad the speech was over. Lucius Fox cut a ribbon and everyone was allowed to enter the new building. Everyone stood up and Dick took another look around, still feeling like he was under a microscope.

"Something wrong?" Bruce's question brought Dick's mind back to current events. He looked over to the man, debating whether or not to tell him. To tell him about the feeling he's had for the past month or so that someone has been watching him. To tell him how he was targeted while not being on the grid out on the town at night, by amateurs who had way too much intel for their actual skill sets. To tell him about the creepy texts he occasionally got, complementing him for something he just did. To tell him he was a little scared because of some faceless person he couldn't be sure about following him nearly everywhere.

But instead he just smiled his poster boy smile for the cameras. "Nothing I can't handle."

The man frowned slightly, concern in his face. "Dick, if there's something—"

"Hey Lucius!" Bypassing Bruce and his questions, he strode forward to his second in command at the company, evading any form of confrontation. No scene for the press during an event, and really, Tim and Damian did not need to see the two of them fighting again. "What's inside this place anyway? Any high wires or trampolines?"

The one who raised him just watched him for a moment, some pain and regret on his face. He really needed to talk to him and sort this out, somehow. After having his youngest deposited in his arms, he really felt he should have stopped his oldest, tried talking to him again. Something was bothering him, something he didn't know about. He could tell. And it bothered him too.

"Oh sorry." Someone bumped into Bruce on accident, but nearly squished Damian in the process. The kid screeched at the contact, swinging a fist back at the man in angry tears. His father caught it and started to calm him down, looking for the person who had touched them, but couldn't find him. The man had looked like a homeless drunk trying to snake through the crowd for the food table, but to vanish like that so easily…

"Weird." He heard a camera go off and looked down to Tim, taking pictures of the crowd. His new favorite toy was going off quite often that cold December morning. "Tim, stop that. Most people don't like surprise photographers."

The kid pouted but put his camera away obediently. "Can we go home now?"

* * *

Nearly everything was in place. Nearly. Just a few more pieces, and then his wish would be fulfilled.

* * *

A/N: So Bruce is not blind, he has a hunch that something's wrong. Doesn't know what, but he does. Dick's senses have gotten sharper and there's a lot going on off camera. Speaking of cameras...

Next chapter will be much bigger. Please review. Yesterday I only got one. TT_TT


	13. 13 - Kents Counseling

This story isn't limited to Superheroes, and sometimes Alfred's advice isn't enough. ;]

* * *

**13 - Kents Counseling**

"Why are there earthquake precautions on the Hall of Justice blue prints?" Flash looked over the electronic plans curiously before them. The other League founders were with him: Aquaman, Martian Manhunter, Green Lantern Hal Jordan, Wonder Woman, and Superman. Their shadow member was also there for once, brooding over the financials they finally gotten through with their meeting. It was odd to see the man there in person, but when he was, a lot of detailed work they usually didn't think about was done. "Washington isn't known for them."

"We didn't design this and we're not paying for it," Hal reminded his friend. "The people are. Seriously, I don't think we even need one. Being an obscure club occasionally meeting in a mountain is fine by me."

"Agreed." It was scary how both the king of Atlantis and last surviving Martian were so in sync at that moment.

Wonder Woman explained the reasoning. "It's what the people want, and who are we to deny them? It's not unlike how Greeks built shrines to honor the Gods."

That earned her a raised eyebrow from the speedster and mortal men. "We're gods now?"

"Hm. Godfrey is going to be all over this." Bruce shook his head, changing pages on his tablet. That reporter was becoming annoying. He'd have to find something on that man sooner or later to shut him up.

"He's all over everything," Superman insisted. "And it's not like we asked for it. Think of it as a museum to honor the heroes of the past. Statues are being made to represent the Justice Society, and all the tourism proceeds that don't keep up the place are going to charities. They just want us to be there when it opens and to use it as a base of operations."

The CEO gave him a sidelong look, speaking volumes. "You can't seriously be thinking about meeting there."

"It'll be a lot nicer and have more room," Wonder Woman agreed. The others looked a bit dubious. "We'll be closer to the action politically too. We could really make a difference-"

"It'll keep you exposed, make you easy targets. One miss step there while crowds come through and your secret or private identities are gone." He looked back to his tablet. "S.T.A.R. Labs and Wayne Tech are still working on functioning teleportation systems. If you have to be seen going to and from the place, only use it as a pit stop or transport station. It'll be a bigger target than that Titan Tower out west, and in a populated area. Best to keep it as empty as possible."

"It'd be a shame to let a good building go to waste," Superman tried only for Flash to agree with the former Bat.

"Look, as much as I like being admired by people for doing right things, even I'm uncomfortable about how exposed it is. And really, here I don't have to worry about uninvited guests or if Wally tails me for a meeting. I know this place is safe and secure. This place..." Flash looked to the blue prints again. "Are there enough security features for all the things we'll be donating?"

"Kord Industries is helping with that," Bruce admitted, but not in a condescending way. They could tell he trusted this company enough. The man cast Hal a slight knowing smirk. "One of the lead architects is John Stewart."

"Really?" GL looked at the blueprints again and grinned. One of his 'coworkers' was working on this.

"He's specifically in charge of making sure it passes all the safety regulations. An anonymous donor suggested quake-proofing the building as an extra precaution. There are many more advantages to this option than meets the eye."

"Anonymous donor huh?" They gave the man knowing looks but he kept his eyes on the tablet, content with the work it provided. "You're that worried about a slim chance?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Truth be told, Bruce Wayne was quite opposed to the whole 'Hall of Justice' idea, but his kids wanted to go there one day and he'd been adding quake-proofing to his buildings lately because of a research paper he read recently. It wouldn't hurt to spend a couple million more to ensure people's safety in an unlikely event. In their experience, the impossible happened frequently.

"Uh huh..." Superman looked over their agenda and smiled. "Well, we've hit everything I think. Anyone else have something to add?"

"Other than someone finding a way to get that stick out of Ollie's a-"

"Knock it off Hal," Flash countered immediately. "It's their family affair and we were told to stay out of it."

"I'm just saying Roy needed help, not to be kicked on his rear." The space cop pushed himself out of his seat to walk away. The meeting was pretty much adjourned. "I mean, he's a good kid! Really! If Oliver just paid more attention to him earlier and tried to help him out, he wouldn't be in that mess to begin with!"

Others stood up to leave as well, some listening to the conversation while others had other thoughts on their mind. Unknown to them, their financier was watching the cop leave as he ranted on to Flash about Roy's recent treatment at the hand of his guardian. Though he heard of the two's problems, he had no hand in any of it. He only prayed it never occurred with his own teenagers.

Thinking of his teens, Bruce couldn't help but think of the trouble he'd been having with Dick. Last time they talked, they argued. The kid had slipped out to be with his older friends again. Fell off the grid. He was giving his son space to breathe and this was how he repaid him? The man rubbed his eyes and tried to focus on his work, but since a large part of his work involved keeping his kids safe and happy, it was impossible to fully manage.

"Everything alright?" The mortal looked up to Superman when he spoke. Wonder Woman was next to his elbow, concern on both of their faces. "You haven't been very talkative lately."

"Am I ever?" Quickly the man looked at his watch and checked the time. Alfred was watching the kids right then, giving Dick a chance to play with them without thinking another argument was coming. More than once Tim had asked where Dick was all the time, wanting to take snapshots with him in the woods nearby. Damian was even saying Dick was missing, sad and missing his big brother. Did he give them enough time? He wanted to put those two to bed but not interfere with their time together.

"You seem distracted," Diana noted, confusion in her voice. "Even with the Hall's construction, you seem-"

"It's personal princess." Bruce jerked to his feet, not wanting to drag them into his family's affairs. As much as he wanted advice on how to handle this, neither of them were parents. Neither had raised a child to their teenage years. "Believe me, you do not want to deal with the drama."

"Bruce," Superman started again, honestly worried, "is there something going on at home? You haven't talked about any of their antics lately-"

"As what they do has no relevance to the safety of the world or continual functions of the League, I don't see why I have to bring them up every meeting." Both heroes took a step back, not expecting such a snippy Bat. Internally the man knew doing this was counterproductive. Clark had an open invitation to the manor he used frequently, and Diana was invited over often enough to eventually use one. Hiding things from them wasn't going to last.

Pinching his brow, he cringed. "Look, it's nothing you can help with. Just something we have to work out."

"We?"

Bruce gave a heavy sigh. Now they were coming up with ideas. Their curiosity was ever abounding. Couldn't Prince and Kent just mind their own business? He shook his head, walking away to get back to his specially designed jet in the hangar and go home at last. Much faster than the car. An idea hit him while the two godlike heroes tailed after him. He ignored their questions until that point, then turned to the alien. "When do your parents go to bed?"

"Auhmm..." Surprised, Superman had to think for a second. "I think they hit the hay at eight or nine. Pretty early but all things considered... Why?"

"Curiosity." Quickly the man turned back about and climbed into his jet. Shaped like a bat and able to seat four (plus a car seat), Lucius had quite the sense of humor. Still, it had the best stealth technology to date and could get him back to Gotham in an hour without being detected. He nodded once to the two of them as it warmed up, continually ignoring their inquiries (he was certain to get an earful from Alfred later when they finished interrogating him). Then he was in the air, headed home.

As soon as he was certain the two flyers weren't following him, he activated the phone function on his computer. "Call Kent farm, landline."

"Calling," a computer simulated voice of his mother answered. Tim and Alfred had put the computer voice together for a Father's Day present and he hadn't the heart to reject it. After three rings, the line picked up.

"_Hello?_"

"Jonathan Kent?" A drop of trepidation entered the man's voice. Was it really a good idea to ask him things?

"_Speaking... Bruce? Is that you?_"

"Yes it is. Sorry to call you so late but... I wanted to ask you something."

Some silence from the other end made him wonder if this was a bad idea again. "_Okay... Don't know if I can tell you anything Alfred already hasn't but-_"

"I already talked to him," he assured him. "But... I wanted to ask you if you had any idea how to handle a rebellious teenager."

"_Jason giving you trouble?_" A drop of humor came from the other end.

"No more than usual," Bruce admitted, smirking slightly. "But no, he's not the one I'm worried about."

"_Dick?_"

He sighed heavily. Jonathan Kent sounded confused, and he would be. Dick was mostly a well behaved young man. Mostly. "I've caught him sneaking out at night, with a girl too old for him at the moment, and he was recklessly endangering his and others' lives recently. We've been arguing nearly every time we're in the same room lately and..."

He sighed once more, the weight of the world on his shoulders. "I don't know what to do. When I was sixteen, I was off wandering the world, training. I left Alfred at home. He... doesn't even know what to do. I was hoping, with how Clark and Dick act so much alike, you might have some idea on how to handle this."

Mr. Kent listened to his rambling on patiently, quiet even after the end. In the end he sighed too. "_Well, I'll tell you what it was like with Clark. It was around then we told him he was adopted and his powers really started to blossom. I wish all we had to worry about was older women and late night excursions. We had our arguments, but for the most part we learned if we just let him have his outburst and left him alone to cool down, he'd be fine._

"_The hard part is waiting to see how he takes things after he cools down. It's never easy. Martha's gone into near hysterics once or twice when he didn't make it home before the sunset, but he always came home. Dick's a good kid. Just give him some time and remind him you'll always be there when he wants you and you'll be fine._"

"This has been going on for months," Bruce persisted. It couldn't be that simple. "As soon as I thought the dating matter was closed, another issue exploded in my face. And then another. I... I don't know what to do. I've been giving him his space but he's still breaking rules and won't talk to me..."

'_He's worried about something._' That was one thing he knew was going on with his oldest, but couldn't get him to confirm. Something had Dick spooked, but he wouldn't say a word about it. Maybe not spooked, but he was certainly worried about something. Vainly he hoped it was because of their fights, but part of him didn't believe that. He always came to him when the kid was scared in the past.

But he wasn't a kid anymore. '_Probably imagining it._'

"_He's just being mad out of principle._" Jonathan waved it off as teenage angst. They were overly dramatic about everything after all. "_After you've apologized, he should start opening up again. You have apologized right?_"

At this the man froze. He probably would have crashed his jet too if he didn't catch himself fast enough. His silence must have answered the old farmer's question. "_You haven't, have you._"

"We don't stay in the same room long enough to come to any sort of agreement or form an apology."

"_Have you made an effort to? At all?_"

More silence. Bruce really was hoping to reason with the boy and find a way to work through this with their prides intact. The farmer sighed heavily. "_Look, even I said sorry to Clark for being pig headed about things. You need to too. And guessing by the magnitude of your 'argument', this needs to be a big apology. Christmas is coming up. Get him something he really wants or something you know he'll love. Something that says you trust him, like a car or-_"

"He has a car, and a motorcycle." He glared out the window in frustration. "And I'm not giving him skydiving lessons until he's twenty-one." Slowly the worried father breathed out, not sure what to do. "I'll try to think of something for him. Thanks."

"_Any time. Just remember to call before seven next time you need advice._" He could hear the old man chuckle. "_We were about to put on a movie and go to sleep._"

"I'll keep it in mind. Goodnight." Bruce pressed the off button, ending the call. He had a lot to think about. A gift for Dick, one that'd help mend their relationship. That was going to be tricky. There were a few options, but he avoided the majority of them for security reasons. But maybe...

* * *

A/N: Let's see... A Blue Beetle reference, a second John Stewart reference, and a G. Godfrey reference. With so many characters waiting to be used in the DC worlds, who needs OCs? ;]

Anywho, I'm certain most of you know about Roy and Ollie's falling out and how severe it was in comparison to Dick and Bruce's in the comics. This happened prior to the story but was not an active part of DNB due to the Bat and Arrow families not being that close in this world. But it is a good example of how bad things can go for them if they aren't careful. Because he's worried it could go that badly, Bruce decides to call upon the great parents of Superman for help. Does that make them super parents? The Kents and the Waynes are pretty dang close in this world, and the Kents are honorary grandparents to the kids. They even visit during the summer. So here he is asking for advice.

Tomorrow everything heats up.


	14. 14 – Ties That Bind

And now it starts. Just remember, this chapter was originally the first of a series of one-shots so it's structured a little differently.

* * *

**14 – Ties That Bind**

Christmas break at last. Everyone was home getting ready for the quickly coming holiday. Snow stopped falling outside the manor, giving the grounds and the house a peaceful feeling if someone looked at it from the outside. But if anyone bothered to look within for the past few months, they'd know differently. An uneasy truce currently hung over the Wayne family. Had for nearly the entire season, minus a few fights.

Maybe it was a truce. Maybe it was just someone giving another the cold shoulder. It was hard for Alfred and the rest to tell. All those who could tell something was wrong at least.

"Dick…" Damian tried, knocking on his big brother's door for probably the tenth time that afternoon. "You home?"

There was some shifting around of heavy objects before the actual wooden structure shifted at all. The oldest child in the building finally opened his door, trying to fix his hair and stuff his cellphone away at the same time. "Hey Dami. Your daddy around?"

He looked over and around the toddler, seeing if the coast was clear. The youngest shook his head emphatically. "No. Daddy an' Awfred in kitchen. Wanna pway wif me?"

Dick gave a half smirk, wanting to do just that. But… "Sorry Dami. I've gotta go out and get Christmas presents."

"Wah?"

He pulled on his jacket before leaving his bedroom, looking it over briefly before nodding. "I gotta go out and be Santa for a few hours."

"Santa?!" At this the kid's eyes lit up like Christmas lights. He'd been excited for this time of year ever since they started playing holiday music. Damian really liked the holidays, which wasn't surprising since he was just three. "You Santa?!"

Dick laughed, crouching down and ruffling his little brother's hair affectionately. "Nah, I just work for him sometimes. Uncle Clark does too. And I think so does Barry and Alfred."

"Reawy?!" He was getting really excited now.

"Think so." The teen gave his younger brother a strong hug, sensing the kid's earlier loneliness. It was hard to be mad at anyone when this cute little face was looking up at him like that. But the fact that it was also Bruce's face as a child still caused him a little pain. That guy just wouldn't… "You know I love you right?"

"I wove you too." Damian hugged him back, best his little arms could at least.

"Good." He looked into his brother's eyes, some sadness in his eyes. "Never forget that. No matter what I say or do or what happens between me and your daddy, I'll always love you. You and Tim and Jason and Cass. And Alfred. I'll always love you guys."

"I know." The toddler smiled merrily. It was hard to believe a year and a half ago this kid would hide in his dad's arms over smiling and laughing at them. "You wove Daddy too."

This stung the young man a bit. He looked away for a moment before standing and admitting anything. "Sometimes. It's... complicated."

He shook his head. He was still mad at him for what happened over Halloween and the arguments since then. They hadn't talked much lately, so the arguments had stopped, but with the holiday season coming to its peak, it was becoming harder to enjoy himself and avoid him. He really didn't want to argue with Bruce again. He didn't like hiding in his room and not playing with the others either. He really had to face the man again, and soon. This uneasy standstill between them was hurting their family bit by bit.

Selina sensed the tension and took off for the Hawaii or something after he ditched their Thanksgiving meal. She was the lucky one who could stay out of the crossfire. The League hadn't caught much of it either because they only dealt with Bruce unless it was some kind of family emergency. His other siblings and Alfred though, they were feeling like they had to be on eggshells around them. Everyone kept their mouths shut when both were in the room, or in Jason's case he'd change the subject to something everyone could possibly agree on. Each of them tried to get the two to reconcile separately, but so far nothing stuck.

What were they fighting over again? Oh yeah, how Bruce was being an overprotective, mother hen who wouldn't cut the umbilical cord already and let Dick live his own life!

Looking back to Halloween though, then the war between them really started, he had to admit he was a bit reckless. Guns were fired at him, and he could have gotten Jason and Cass shot because of their involvement, but no one was hurt. Instead they had saved people's lives, including Bruce and Selina's second identities. They brought down about a dozen gunmen and saved near a hundred lives! But did that matter to Bruce? Was he proud of their efforts? No, not really. All he saw was reckless endangerment and it scared him to the point that he was furious at Dick. Not Jason or Cass, the responsibility fell straight on to Dick's shoulders.

Oh, and the man wouldn't let him date Barbara Gordon, the Commissioner's daughter, even though she had a clean background and he was sixteen. Sheesh… Even uptight Mormon kids were allowed to date then. He wasn't allowed to date anybody!

The teen kneed his forehead for the oncoming headache that accompanied his many thoughts about those fights. He had to get Bruce to listen to him. He wasn't eight years old anymore! He didn't need saving every second of the day and his nightmares were bearable now. He didn't need protection anymore. Bruce had four others to worry about. Couldn't he give the senior a break? How was he expected to go to prom without a date anyway? He'd done everything right by Bruce up until then. And what he did was exactly what Batman used to do all the time.

Maybe that was it. The man was so focused on making sure his family didn't get hurt from the criminal community he forgot what it was like to actually be part of the one fighting crime. Forgot what it was like to be in the thick of it. When was the last time he wore the cowl again? He knew he wore it when he took Damian away from his ex-demon-princess-fiancé. And he hadn't fought much, had he?

"Dick?" Damian's small curious voice brought him out of his thoughts. Even though the three year old hadn't quite picked up what was happening around him, he was still aware of how different people felt. Kids that age were like that.

So his brother just smiled at him, trying to push everything back. "I'm okay. Hey, how about we find the others? I'm sure we can get them to play with you."

"Okay!" The toddler dashed forward, heading to where he last saw the other three. His big brother followed, smiling to himself. That kid was just too cute.

They found Jason and Tim busy playing on the Wii. Tim had hacked the system and combined it with a game making program to make a more realistic baseball game for them to play. The two of them were absorbed in the game that they barely heard the duo coming in.

"Dude, that's a foul."

"No, that's a bad pitch!"

Jason grinned at Tim next to him. "My pitch was perfect. You just royally suck at this."

The little genius glared daggers at the white locked trouble maker next to him. "You want to see my batting? Let's take this to the field!"

"Uh, guys?" Dick inclined his head over to Damian at his knees. "Mind playing with him? I've gotta get some Christmas presents."

"Seriously?" Tim whined. His brother knew the nine year old hated babysitting Damian, but the two really needed to learn to get along. It had to be a combination of jealousy and just being brothers that made them act that way, but then again Dami did bite him. A lot.

"Why now?" Jason asked curiously. "I mean, Christmas is in four days. What's taken you so long?"

"Finals." He grinned at himself. Dick was nearly done with his senior year, just one semester left! Then he could go anywhere! Sure he'd be a minor for another year or so, but really, being out of high school was a huge accomplishment. Even Bruce would have to acknowledge he wasn't a kid after next term. "Plus a few of them were special orders. Just have to pick them up and now's the best time."

"You'll be back for dinner though right?" Tim asked, coming closer. He clearly missed having Dick at dinner with them. No one liked how much Jason tried to fill in the silence at the table when he wasn't there. Including Jason.

The oldest looked away awkwardly for a moment. He really did have to stop hiding from Bruce. He had to talk to him. Christmas was about family after all. He should make it a good one, for the others if no one else. So that meant fixing, or at least trying to fix, what was wrong between the two of them. "Yeah," he murmured. "I'll be back for Alfred's cooking. Just play with Dami for a bit okay?"

"Alright alright." Jason came up to the little guy and picked him up, making the kid laughed loudly. Really, the tyke was so quiet last year and now he hardly shut up. The younger teen looked at the elder, smirking. "My present better be good Dickybird."

"Pft. Of course it is Jaybird!" Dick grinned. "This is me we're talking about!"

The boys all laughed at the comment before saying bye to him and letting him move on. Dick kept going through the house, careful not to make any noise as he made it past the kitchen and towards the garage. Cass spotted him from her favorite reading spot in the parlor but merely nodded before going back to her book. Every once in a while, Dick loved how quiet she was. Once in the garage of used cars (the collector cars were in the one further from the road), he spotted the vehicle he wanted: his motorcycle.

"Hello Shirley." He knelt next to his bike, making sure all the chains and tractions were right. Couldn't risk too much with this weather; it'd only put Bruce in a more foul mood towards him. Paranoid, overprotective, helicopter, mother hen. Well the plus side was Bruce taking care of the winter tires on the bike, along with his car. That'd make this a lot easier. He double checked the saddle bags and his helmet before being satisfied with it and getting mentally prepared to go.

"You should take the car."

Dick froze at the voice. He'd been trying to avoid it for nearly two months. Really, he didn't want another argument. They had enough of those and what conversations they did have were snippy short, hot tempered ones. Both knew they were sick of them. He looked over to Bruce at the garage's doorway, watching him expressionlessly. "Better traction and stability."

"It's just gonna be me and the presents are small." The teen zipped up his jacket tight before working on his gloves. Were they always this small and slippery? "Besides, it's easier to park and with gas prices being the way they are, this'll save a lot of money."

The man nodded, grunting slightly. It made the boy blink. Did he just agree with him? Even though both of them knew the risks? Dick fought to hide his shock as he put his helmet on. It was a Christmas miracle. "I'll be back before dinner."

"We really need to talk." Bruce seemed a little nervous, anxious even. His hands were fiddling with his coat's lining, a sign to the teenager there was something he really wanted to talk to him about but was unsure how to start.

Dick watched him for a good minute in silence. He hadn't seen Bruce like this since he was his ward and the man was trying to bring up adoption. It was just after Jason joined them and he could still remember that day perfectly. One of the best days of his life. Seeing that look now, some hope and relief started to come to his chest. Maybe they could work things out at last. Bruce had given him space lately. Maybe... Maybe now they were really ready to talk.

Just not at that precise moment. "After dinner. I promise." He gave the man a weak smile, slightly apologetic. "I've got a few errands to run now or I'll miss my golden opportunity."

"Understood." Bruce pressed the button opening the garage door, letting him continue on his own. There was some worry in his eyes as Dick revved up the motor. "Be careful on the turns. No unnecessary risks."

"Where's the fun in that?" He gave the exasperated man a quick grin before escaping his presence entirely. Yeah, he'd be careful, but there was no way he'd confirm that with the old man. He deserved to sweat a little more. And there wasn't a blizzard scheduled in Gotham for another couple weeks. He'd be fine.

Bruce watched him drive off until he was no longer in sight, still worried for the teen. Before that Halloween night, he was far more compliant, but even before then the teen's rebellious phase started, and it worried him. Always worried him. Bruce worried. It was just how he was, regardless of how careful he knew the kids could be. Parents worried.

'_You're not my father Bruce! Stop telling me what to do!_'

Those words still ate at him. Ate away at every cheery memory he had of Dick. He wasn't his father, physically. But for about half the kid's life, he felt like he was. In his heart, Dick was his first born, the spark that brought warmth back into his life. The others would have had a nearly impossible time if he hadn't come around first. They may not even be with him right then. He may not be John Grayson, but Dick turned Bruce into a father.

And as a father, he had to make it up to him.

Slowly he took out an envelope from his coat pocket containing Dick's Christmas present. It was the best he could come up with and it took a couple weeks to get it together. He was thinking of giving it to him early, let him chose when to use it. Maybe it'd make things easier between them. He was hoping it would. He missed the hyper, affectionate eight year old he first took in.

* * *

Dick felt he could breathe a little easier once he was outside view of the manor, but his stomach still twisted in knots. It wasn't the Christmas presents he was thinking about right then. Heck, it wasn't even the talk he promised Bruce they'd finally have that night.

It was that text. The one that woke him from his nap before Damian's knocking.

_I know your family's secret. Unless you want the underworld to know the truth, come to warehouse S14D3 on the southwest side of Gotham. Come alone. Tell no one. 4pm. Your sister's reading '_Great Expectations_'. Fulfill mine._

Dick gripped the handles tighter as he thought about it. He gave Cass that book and she started it just yesterday. Whoever sent him that text had eyes in the manor. It was likely they knew about the League. About Batman. Maybe even about Cass and Damian's origins. If the criminal community had even a little bit of that information…

"Okay ugly," he murmured in his helmet. "Who are you?"

* * *

A/N: Just when you think things are going to get better, they start going south. Dick puts his desk in front of his door to make sure no one can get in. in a family where you learn to pick locks, this tends to be necessary. Damian still has his biting Timmy fetish (it's a fun joke) and Jason and Timbo love to compete against each other while I made Cass a bookworm. That's a small review of what's happened so far.

The thing in Bruce's pocket will be talked about more near the end. And anyone catch the l33t? It's the small jokes that make the story so much fun. Tomorrow the boot drops.


	15. 15 – Blackmail

Dun dun DUUUNNNN!

* * *

**15 – Blackmail**

Dick pulled up next to the warehouse dubiously. He had a devil of a time finding the place, as Alfred would put it. He had to ask a security guard at one of the neighboring houses where to start looking. The whole district was a cellphone dead zone for some reason (ruining his GPS), a very odd occurrence in Gotham, and one that didn't bode well for the young acrobat. The temptation to turn on the sonic signaling device in his watch was getting stronger with each passing moment. He'd been lured out for kidnappings before and he was in no mood for another one.

Everything about this screamed trap to him.

Yet he felt like he didn't have a choice but to walk into it.

As he turned off his motorcycle and removed his helmet, he looked around. No people as far as the eye could see. There was a car though. A nice one. Bruce had one like it and Alfred made them use it every once in a while. He took a step towards it when his phone went off again, jerking his thoughts away from it. Wasn't this a dead zone?

He took it out and found a text waiting for him, no bars. How did he get a text without any signal? Dick tried to remember if there was some kind of development in this field in regards to this (he overheard a lot of tech-talk between Wayne Enterprises and the Justice League, plus Tim loved talking about the latest and greatest developments) as he read it.

_'Not yet Richard. Come inside. You must be cold.'_

The teen glared at the message for a moment before looking for the camera(s) the creep must be using to spy on him. Took a minute but he spotted it, barely. It was well hidden in the exit sign above a nearby door. That had to be his invitation inside, where his freaky mystery stalker/text man was waiting to grab him and force him into that car.

As he opened the door to go inside, he rethought that. Why would his supposed kidnapper lure him indoors instead of just dragging him into the car? Did he want to gas him first inside the building? Curiosity buzzed inside him, awaking the detective being cultivated by Bruce and the League since he was a kid. He never could resist a mystery. Half the fun of Christmas at the manor was figuring out what everyone got for each other. They had to guess before opening their packages Christmas morning, family tradition.

He pushed these thoughts aside as he walked carefully into the warehouse. He'd been in a number of these buildings in the past, and never was it a good experience. Bad things happened in these places when no one was working or looking. This one was dark and cluttered with crates, almost like a maze. His eyes narrowed suspiciously. This could not be good.

"_You have courage._"

Dick jerked at the voice, then again as the door behind him slammed and bolted shut. He didn't have to test it to know there was no way out of this one. He saw the lock earlier. Electromagnetics. Deadbolt. Picking the lock or forcing it would be useless unless you had super strength.

"_Good. You're going to need it._" The silky voice above and around the teen made his skin crawl. It was almost exactly how he imagined Luthor's voice was when he was convincing congress to side with him on some special project, hiding his real goals to use it to destroy Superman. Cold, shrewd, smooth. He was patronizing him, whoever this was. He met Luthor, and that was not his voice.

"Who are you?!" Dick demanded, balling his hands into fists. He really didn't want to deal with this. He made promises, and he intended to keep them.

"_Patience. We'll meet very shortly Richard._" The guy was laughing at him behind that calm voice of his. Dick heard that tone from other high class creeps who thought he was a stupid circus brat. "_But first, you must find me. There's a room at the end of this maze. Make it there in the next fifteen minutes and you might be able to save her._"

"Her?" His blood ran cold. Save her? The way this man talked, he couldn't tell if he'd hurt someone just to taunt him, but he couldn't risk it. He risked it once before, with Two-Face. That didn't end well.

"_Tick tock._"

He didn't waste a second more. At first he tried solving the maze (he was good with puzzles, learned that on the road with the circus) but after five minutes of twist, turns, and annoying traps and obstacles, he realized it would take too long, especially at this angle. So he did what he did best, thought out of the box. Quickly Dick climbed up one of the walls of crates and took another look around from the top. Most of the place was in shadow, but he saw a light near the far end of the place, and a wide open area. "Alright. Now to get there."

The teen sprinted across the crate walls towards the light. Several times he jumped gaps between them, closing in rapidly on his destination. Once or twice he had to grab a hanging lamp and perform flips to make the jump, but none of it was difficult for him. He kept his acrobatic skills up at the manor, even taught his siblings how to use a trapeze. Anything to get under Bruce's skin and prove rule 9 wasn't just for him.

Before the fifteen minutes were up, Dick landed near the end of the maze where some old lady was laying on her side on the ground. He darted straight towards her, eager to see if she was alright, but ran head long into a force field.

"Aurg!" The boy flew backwards, towards the floor. Instinctively he slapped the ground to break his fall and turned it into a roll, getting right back onto his feet. He glared at the invisible barrier, trying to figure out what kind it was and how to get around it, but his thoughts were cut short when he heard clapping.

"Very well done Richard. You truly are exceeding my expectations."

Dick jerked his gaze to the source of that voice, his eyes widening a fraction as the man came forward from the shadows behind the field. The man came into the light at last, and he couldn't believe who it was. He'd seen that uniform before, and another variation of that mask. It was in the League's 'Killers At Large' list last year, theoretically a closed case. Only one man would dare wear orange, silver and black like that. Others who tried would be killed by the original.

Deathstroke the Terminator. Slade Wilson.

"I wasn't trying to impress you." The teen put up the best front he could. Inside he was beginning to panic. As good as Dick was, going head to head with one of the most dangerous men on the planet was not on his bucket list.

He could hear the man smiling behind that metal mask. "I look forward then to when you will."

"Who are you?!" Okay, Dick knew who this guy was thanks to Bruce's paranoia and many lists and files on his computer, but pampered rich kids, even from the circus, weren't supposed to know who the world's greatest tactician was. And if he was going to protect the League or his family, he'd have to pretend he didn't know. Good thing Alfred taught him how to act.

"I go by many names," he answered coolly. Looked like he bought it. "Slade these days, but you'll be calling me Master."

This made the teen blink. What? "Whoa, hold the phone there." He eased a little out of a fighting stance, confused to high heaven and back. "Master? What? You some evil Timelord or something? Which regeneration is this? I know the Doctor has no fashion sense until Nine but seriously… Master?"

"Hm. Humor. Are you attempting to distract me? It won't work."

"No seriously, Master? What are you smoking?" Dick gave him an incredulous looks. They said he was dangerous, not insane. "'Cause there's no way I'd call you 'Master' Sadie."

"Slade," the man repeated, "and you will."

"Really?" The teen folded his arms, a mocking smirk growing on his face. Okay, this guy was nuts. Dangerous, but nuts. "And just why is that? 'Cause you know some 'secret'?"

"Hm. No. You'll be telling me that secret yourself in time." There was a hint of mocking humor in the man's voice. He knew something

"So you dragged me down here for nothing?" He rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he took in the room again. He had to find a way to save the lady and get them out of there. But with one of the deadliest assassins there with them, it wasn't going to happen until the other guy dropped his guard. And what better way to do that than make the guy believe he was just another teenager?

"No. I brought you here to make you my apprentice."

Dick's hands dropped to his sides in genuine shock, gaping at the insane man. He was not expecting that. "What?"

"For some time now I've been searching for an apprentice, someone to follow in my footsteps. And Richard, I've chosen you. Congratulations."

A dark feeling started to swell in the teen's chest, but he wouldn't let it win. The guy's voice told him Slade thought he was in control, certain of his own importance and victory. Not happening. "No. No way would I ever work for you!"

Rage built inside him, nearly exploding. Only the knowledge of who this guy really was and the force field between them stopped him from trying to pummel the guy. His apprentice? The only person he ever considered being an apprentice, or a protégé, to was Batman; and that option died out when he tried to convince Bruce eight years ago to stay in the game. This guy, Slade, he was everything Bruce hated. Everything Dick hated. There was no way he'd ever join him.

"Really?" The tone in the man's voice chilled Dick to the core. The man pressed a button on a cellphone, making holographic screens appear all around them. The technology was still being experimented on outside Wayne Tech's R&D/League issued items. How did he get his hands on…

All color in his face dropped to his feet at a moment's notice. There were two categories for the images he was seeing. One was something from a biology textbook, the molecular level pictures of blood cells. Attached to roaming healthy red blood cells were some kinds of probes.

If that wasn't enough to creep him out, the images of his family right then and there inside the manor were. They wore the same clothes as he saw them wearing just an hour ago. Cass was still reading her book while listening to her iPod in her favorite spot in the parlor. Tim and Jason moved to the gym, having rigged up a basketball hoop and trying to make free throws without arousing suspicion. Bruce and Damian were reading _The Little Engine That Could_ in the library while Alfred was preparing dinner in the kitchen. Nearly everyone was matched up with the blood/probe images, all but the two adults.

"Nanoscopic probes." The man had to be smiling behind that mask. "For the past month or so I've targeted each and every one of your siblings, subtly injecting them with them. You've seen the signs. A round rash about the size of a penny appeared somewhere on each of their bodies. Right now they're harmless, undetectable even. But with a push of a button," he showed the teen a handheld detonator attached to his wrist guard, "my probes will destroy your 'family' from the inside, out."

Short on breath for a moment, Dick just gaped at the screens. This couldn't be real. Nano-technology was still being experimented on. Ray Palmer was getting there, much faster now that Bruce was backing him, but hadn't heard if he reached this level yet. How could this guy even hope to have this kind of power? "You're bluffing! No one can do that! Everyone knows this is pure Star Trek! I bet those are just—"

"You need proof?" The man grinned. "Alright."

Slade knelt next to the lady on the floor and lifted her sleeve, exposing a rash about the size of a penny. Dick had seen rashes like that on his siblings recently, but they were easily explained away. Poison ivy, stress, staying in a diaper too long, brushing up against something they didn't know they were allergic to. They meant nothing. But then the assassin clicked a button on the side of the bigger detonator.

The woman jolted suddenly, her skin turning a sickening shade of orange after a few seconds, spreading from the rash, crying out in pain as she jolted here and there. Dick watched horrified for a moment, panic filling him, before screaming, "STOP IT! LEAVE HER ALONE!"

"Have I proven my power Richard?" The man seemed pleased. But all Dick could hear and see was the woman in agony. Flashes of the worst day of his life flew across his mind, making him experience again the first time he saw death. The worst way to learn about it. Horrified, he couldn't look away and just kept begging as tears started in his eyes.

"PLEASE! LEAVE HER ALONE! STOP IT! LET HER GO!"

"A truly horrific way to die," Slade concluded, tapping the button again. The orange tinged died away and the lady visibly relaxed, though she still shook. The agony on her face was more than the teenager could bear. Why did he have to hurt her like that? "That is the fate your precious siblings will have to face if you try to defy me.

"If you join me, if you swear to serve me, if you never speak to your 'family' again, I will allow them to live. But, if you disobey, even the smallest of requests, I will annihilate them Richard. And I'll make you watch."

The dark and smooth tone of the man's voice only drove Dick even further into himself as he gaped at the lady. The way she twitched, how much pain she was in, it was all engrained into his memory. Hearing the threat, he could almost see his siblings in such a state. He could hear something breaking inside him.

"So," the assassin proposed, as if he had a choice, "do we have a deal?"

He looked from the barely breathing woman to the screens surrounding them. His family. Four screens of probe infested blood. Slade infected four innocents. Damian, Cass, Tim, Jason… all of them would be hurt or killed because of him.

"Why?" Tears threatened to come out as he asked in a broken voice. The hollow feeling in his chest grew with each second. "Why me? Why not someone else? Someone who admires you?"

Slade smirked, seemingly pleased. He tapped the phone again. One screen changed to a video link. It was of him, on Halloween. The night he dressed up as a make-believe hero and took down those dozen men nearly on his own. Cass and Jason helped, but he was the showman, the lead act. And he was showing off.

"Your abilities and natural instincts are quite evident here. As soon as I saw this, I had to see you for myself. You've passed all my tests these past two months, proven your abilities time and time again. All those would-be kidnappers and muggers you took down, evading photographers, even breaking into your own home so no one caught you sneaking out at night." Other images appeared on the screens, reminding Dick of what had occurred the past couple months. He knew someone was watching him that whole time. Now he knew who. He really did have a stalker. "Time and time again you've impressed me. And now it's time to choose. Serve me, or watch them die."

Dick watched his family on the monitors for a minute longer before making a sound. Jason and Tim were having so much fun with their game, they didn't care if someone was watching them. Cassandra was entirely absorbed in her book, ignorant of everything outside it. Alfred bustled about like normal, nothing the matter. Bruce and Damian just finished their book and the kid was clambering all over his dad. Bruce was laughing fondly, far more at ease now than when he first met him. Just beyond him was a painting of his parents and photographs of all those who died in the children's lives. He could make out the one of his parents.

What would they do? In this situation, what would his parents, their parents, all of their loved ones, do? What would…

Slowly Dick closed his eyes, grieved by the only conclusion. His head dropped and all fight left him. "What do you want me to do… Master."

* * *

A/N: w And the boot has dropped. Some lines may look familiar because they are modifications or direct quotes from the first apprentice episode. SO no ownership there.

Few fun bits: Ray Palmer aka the Atom, is going to play a part, a small part. Why they didn't think of him before is beyond me. Second, I love doctor who! And I've established in DNB that the whole batclan are scifi geeks. The Master was an evil timelord, who may or may not stay dead this time. When Slade said to call him master, that just popped into my head.

So now Dick is forced to be Slade's apprentice. Why? because he saw him on TV and wanted someone with his skills. Dick came in thinking the League or Bruce was in danger, but it turns out his siblings are... as far as he knows. The probes are real. Dick is going to play dumb with Slade for as long as possible in order to protect those he loves. And since Slade doesn't suspect anything connecting Dick to the League or any heroes, he may just pull this off! Or not. You'll have to see. Oh and before you ask, the reason Dick didn't just signal for Superman to come and save him is simply because Supes can't get there in time to save Dick and stop Slade from pressing the trigger. Not really possible, even for him.

Tomorrow we have detetion prevention and well... a panic attack.


	16. 16 - Rule 4

Now to watch them spiral out of control.

* * *

**16 – Rule 4**

He didn't see the man walk up to him. He didn't hear the force field drop. He didn't really care to look up anymore. The screens showing his family may or may not be there, but it didn't matter. Richard Grayson wasn't really there anymore. Just his body, for whatever this madman had in store for him.

"Change."

An orange and black uniform was handed over to Dick, along with gloves, boots, and underwear. He took it numbly, not daring to look up. He couldn't trust his emotions right then. His freedom handed over to an assassin that wanted to make him like him, or take his family's lives. Those were his choices. No one would want to see anything after having to make that choice.

"Leave everything on you here. Everything." Slade walked a little ways off, fingering a few extra devices. He only looked over to the sullen boy once before commenting again. "Don't act so sad Richard. I know it looks bad now, but believe me, you'll grow to like it. Now change. Can't have Wayne finding you now can we?"

The teen bit his lip and started to strip. He didn't like the idea of selling himself to this man. Did being his apprentice mean he'd be his boy-toy too? Sick little… He had a long shirt on so he managed to change pants without showing anything. Moving to his jacket, shirt, and undershirt, he hesitated when he came to his watch. A large leather binding and the most updated face-watch on the planet. It also doubled as a tracker, emergency signal and a light. There were some medicines also tucked along the edges, condensed forms of anti-toxins and the like for emergency use. Bruce was very paranoid. Removing that was to go off the grid entirely. So he took it off, laying it on top of his pile of folded clothes and shoes (Alfred would be proud). It went nicely with his cellphone.

The last thing he owned on him was the one thing he didn't ever want to leave behind. When he first came to Wayne Manor, Bruce gave him a perfectly made chain, one that wouldn't break easily or rust. He had Dick put his parents' wedding bands on it. Wore it ever since, no matter what. Bruce had one just like it since his parents' murder. Jason and Tim had their parents' rings as well. They never took them off. It was like keeping their love around them, always; a reminder of where they came from as individuals. A good reminder.

"I'm waiting Apprentice."

Dick chanced a look at the monitors again, spotting Bruce still in the study with Damian. They were picking out another book. He could still see his parents' picture. Slowly he took a breath then worked the chain over his head, careful not to break it. Once off, he carefully arranged the chain and rings on top of the pile. He didn't want to let go of them but he had no choice. As soon as his hands were off those cool pieces of metal, he rapidly finished putting on Slade's uniform, walking around the neat stack that once belonged to him. He didn't want to see what he had to give up for others.

The assassin looked him over once redressed, circling him slightly. The acrobat knew this kind of inspection; he went through it at school all the time by gripey teachers and parents. They loved to inspect him then put him down.

"Hmm…." Slade gripped his chin slightly, forcing the teen to look at him listlessly, glaring slightly. There must have been something wrong about him in the man's eyes. He let go of his chin and turned towards an opening in the crates. "Come. We have a long journey ahead of us."

Dick nodded and started following, looking once back over to the woman still cowering in the floor. "Do not mind her Apprentice. She's served her purpose, and now she is free."

This brought some relief to the teen, but not enough for him to smile. Silently he followed after his new master, not at all happy by the situation he was now in, and nearly ran into an aging gentleman waiting for them at another entrance. The old guy took him back for a moment. He seemed to act a lot like Alfred. Why was he with Slade Wilson?

"I see everything has gone well sir?" He seemed to eye Dick for a moment, sizing him up before taking a long look at his face. Something seemed to change in his expression when he did that, causing him to swiftly turnabout and head towards the car outside.

"Perfectly Wintergreen."

"Sir, I'd advise a mask in this young man's case." He cast another look in the teen's direction. "His eyes are…"

"I'm perfectly aware of the effect his eyes have on people." Slade looked back to Dick who was becoming confused. Miserable, but confused. People said he had very emotional eyes before, and an unusual shade of blue, but did it really had an effect on people? "I'll address that as soon as it is necessary. Inside the car Apprentice."

Dick nodded dumbly, sliding in like he did hundreds of times with the car at home. Slade followed suit, shutting the door behind him firmly. Wintergreen took the front, playing chauffeur. Really, was this guy trying to imitate Alfred? Well he didn't have the accent.

As the motor started up, Slade looked at the pouty, angst filled boy who chose silence now that he was beaten. Dick actually had lots to say. He was just certain that if he said any of it, someone would die. So to save lives, and his breath, he folded his arms and glared out the window to see time and traffic slip by.

"Don't be so upset Richard," the mercenary started. "This really is all for your benefit."

"Hmph." Benefit? Do or die wasn't benefit. It was blackmail.

"You really will learn to love what I teach you, you'll see."

"Right." Love what he teaches? Dick was planning on being a cop after high school, maybe a Gotham detective. This guy was pretty much blowing that plan out of the water, along with hundreds of others. How was he supposed to honor his parents' memories now?

"In time, you may even see me as a father to you."

"I already have a father." His eyes narrowed in self-loathing as he thought of this. "And you're nothing like him."

* * *

"Dinner is served Master Bruce."

Alfred's message was a welcomed intrusion on the CEO's thoughts. He was still wondering how to talk to his eldest about things. How to start really. Was it always this hard to talk the boy? "Of course Alfred. Damian."

The toddler flipping carelessly through his old books looked up to him from the floor, grinning proudly. He was pretending he was a great scholar at the moment. Well that ended as soon as he took a whiff of the air. Before either of the men could blink the kid was out the door and running towards the meal waiting for them. Seeing his energy, both of them couldn't help but to laugh. It was always good to see the happiness on little children's faces.

"I haven't heard the garage door opening," Bruce started, walking next to the butler. "Has Dick returned home yet?"

Alfred shook his head. "I'm afraid not sir. Not that I've seen at the least."

"Hmmm…." The man took out his cellphone and started bringing up a hidden program before stopping himself.

'_You just don't trust me to do it alone! I'm not a little kid anymore!_'

Bruce took a deep breath before putting the phone away. Dick was just late. He didn't need to check up on him all the time. Traffic backed up and became dangerous this time of year. He was just being delayed. That was all.

He took another deep breath before joining the rest of his children in the kitchen, where dinner would be served at the smaller table they used on a daily basis. Cassandra was already there, scratching the back of her neck as she waited. Alfred was retrieving Jason and Tim at the moment. Damian tugged on his father's hand, trying to make dinner come sooner in his own way.

"Sit wif me!"

The father smiled warmly at his son and obeyed the order. He wasn't always unreasonable with his kids. Shortly after settling down in his seat, both missing boys were racing through the doorway, laughing and ignoring Alfred's shouts after them to behave. Their dad gave them a chiding glare but only heard laughs from the two. Really, Jason's mischievous tendencies were rubbing off on Tim. The second youngest was even starting his own sense of style to try and prove his own independence, wearing a black hoodie with cat ears and large yellow tinted goggles around his neck whenever he didn't have to dress formally. As if Jason's leather biker jackets weren't worrying enough, now Tim was imitating Selina's other persona. At least Cass and Dick weren't trying to look like criminals even the slightest bit.

Tim took a look around, a bit disappointed despite the race he had down there. "Where's Dick? He promised he'd be here tonight."

"Still out," Bruce answered. "He'll turn up soon. He doesn't break his promises."

"Yeah, unlike certain other people…" Jason received a quick glare, making him grin impishly as he took his favorite seat. "Did I say who?"

"It was implied." Their father gave a heavy sigh. Jason was never going to let him forget how much he screwed up back when he was little and missed a few parent-teacher conferences. Even missed a fieldtrip back then. Everyone made mistakes and he hadn't had children for very long then either. Dick forgave his mistakes back then… hadn't he?

The teen waved it off as nothing. "Details details. What's for eats?"

Dinner progressed as usual, mostly with Jason trying to fill the empty air with words of some sort. Damian put in what he could here and there, but it was hard to carry on a conversation there without the chatterbox. Dick and Jason would argue and comment over the table in the past, dragging others into the conversation all the time. The two together really could liven up a meal. But without their favorite older brother, the whole room had difficulty connecting.

Tim took Bruce's cellphone about half way through the meal, without alerting his father (the kid was spending way too much time with Selina), and started working on it silently. It was a good three minutes later when the man noted the confused expression on his face and chanced a peek at what he was doing. "When did you…"

"I wanted to see where Dick was." He looked up at the man, worried. "He's far later than normal. Shouldn't he have called by now or something?"

"Probably on the road." Bruce took his phone back, returning the screen to its sleep mode. "He'll be home soon."

"But…"

At this time his phone conveniently went off. They all looked at it, knowing what that tone meant. Cass and Jason dropped their forks on their plates with a groan. Even Damian pouted when he heard it. The man looked at his phone and sighed slightly to himself. Looked like trouble was starting. "There goes the evening. Sorry."

"We're used to it." They really were. Within seconds their father left the table, rushing into the pantry and the hidden cave entrance there, to start his work as the League's information hub and hacking accomplice. It'd probably take all night to get whatever had started worked out. Someone was always stirring trouble during the holidays. Why would this year be any different?

Jason looked over to Tim, not really happy with the latest development. "So, where is Dickybird?"

"Didn't get to the program." He looked back to his plate thinking hard. When Dick made promises, he kept them. Even when he was busy or lost track of time, he kept them. So what was keeping him away now? With Dad gone off to work, dinner was pretty much over. It may be a movie or a TV show left before they were sent off to bed. It was getting late and the sun set a while ago. "He better get home soon."

"He will. You'll see." The teenager gave one of his best smiles, screaming confidence. Inside he was a little worried too, but he was the big brother right then. He had to do everything he could to keep the others happy and calm. That's what Dick did for them all the time.

Way too much work. How did the guy do it?

* * *

"_Thanks for the help B._"

Bruce rubbed his eyes tiredly, thinking it might be a good idea to check in with an eye doctor in the next few weeks. Looking at all these screens here and at his day job had to be killing his eyes. How did Alfred go all these years without glasses? He grunted to the man on the other end. "Try to keep Sinestro off Earth Jordon. I missed out on dessert."

"_How was I supposed to know he had some kind of secret base here?_"

He shook his head before cutting the connection. Hal Jordon had managed to get himself caught by a former green lantern on an old military base, powerless and ready to be dissected. He barely managed to get in contact with Bruce via stray cellphone. When the man bothered to memorize his number he'd never know, but this time the guy thought ahead, saving his life. With Bruce's help, Hal retrieved his power ring, freed several human prisoners, uncovered an alien takeover plot, and dismantled it all before Sinestro could initiate any real trouble. Really, where would the space cop be without him?

The former Batman stretched his limbs out best he could in his chair before doing his usual checks on his computer. Arkham hadn't reported any breakouts since the last time security was updated (seven months ago, a new record). Blackgate also was being quiet, despite receiving a few new troublesome inmates. The corrupt cops he was listening in on hadn't yet revealed who they were on the take from, nor the locations they were detouring Gordon from yet. And as far as his computer viruses could tell, Luthor wasn't making any move towards him, his allies, or his associates yet. The baldy though was trying to buy politicians for something. It'd be something to look into later.

When he finished his checks and tasks, he looked at the clock, groaning. "After one. Hal…"

He shook his head before pushing away from the computer. Late nights didn't exactly work when he had a three year old to mind and several others who had night terrors randomly throughout the year. Jason may be much better now than he was a year ago, but what Joker did to him still weighed heavily in his subconscious mind. Both Tim and Cass had buried memories that poked their heads from time to time. And despite having dealt with it years ago, Dick even had nightmares about his parents' deaths, and the beating he took from Two-Face. Even Bruce had unwanted visions of his parents' murder and other harsh events. Time made no difference to the subconscious.

The man tiredly walked up the stairs to where his family rested. Because of the call, he couldn't talk to Dick that night. He really needed to talk to him. Not just about the issues they were having (Bruce finally admitted to himself what they were), but also about the future. The envelope with the kid's… no, young man's… gift inside, still rested in his coat pocket. He'd be graduating high school in a few months. Had he thought about where he wanted to go? What he wanted to do? They hadn't talked about it.

As Bruce tread gently down the hallway actually holding people in it, he stopped to listen at each door. He smiled slightly at the sound of breathing behind most of them, rolling his eyes at the slight buzz from someone's computer screen being left on. Jason must have been watching something online before falling asleep. He did that once in a while. The father stopped in front of Dick's door for a moment and listened. Not a sound came through the door.

For a moment his breath halted. Not a sound. Something was always coming through that door. Screams, giggles, murmuring, soft music, a movie caught on replay, something! Unless it was empty, that room was never quiet. Never.

He quietly placed his hand on the doorknob and slowly turned it, trying to ignore the words repeating in his head from old arguments.

'_I'm not a little kid anymore!_' '_I know exactly what I'm doing!_' '_Quit protecting me so much! I can take care of myself!_' '_I'm sixteen years old!_' '_I can make my own decisions!_' '_Stop checking up on me!_' 'Y_ou're acting like a stalker Bruce._' '_I'm fine! Quit panicking already._' '_You're not my father Bruce! Stop telling me what to do!_'

The door opened and he could barely make out the outline of everything in the room. His eyes focused on the bed, making him take a step inside. He couldn't see a person in it. Bruce turned on a low intensity light, just in case Dick was sleeping and he was being paranoid, but with it on he knew he wasn't.

Empty.

"Oh G-d."

Frantic, he searched the room, nearly ripping apart the bed before checking every nook and cranny for any sign of the teen. Everything seemed to be in place, despite the messiness of it. Mentally he reviewed what he knew, his detective skills taking partial control of his actions. He remembered clearly what the boy wore earlier that day, everything from his shirt to his boots. Dick hadn't acted out of the norm either. He made promises to come back. But he hadn't, had he?

Unable to find anything in that room indicating where the acrobat was, Bruce whipped about and searched other likely locations the teen may have ended up around the manor. He hadn't come to the study or cave, he knew that for certain. The quick look inside each of his other children's rooms proved he hadn't accidentally bunked with one of them. He even checked his own bed and found it empty. Then he looked into the gym to see if he was still up and working a sweat at this late hour. No sign of Richard Grayson anywhere he looked in the manor.

Now Bruce was sprinting, not caring if he woke anyone. He even broke one of his own rules and jumped the banister to the ground floor to check one place he should have looked into first: the garage. Panicking, he flipped the switch to see inside it and looked at one spot in particular. It too was empty.

"Master Bruce?"

The man's breathing became erratic as he took out his cellphone and started up a program he should have followed through with hours ago. His wide eyed panicked state worried the butler he inadvertently awoken. "What appears to be the matter?"

"Dick hasn't come back yet." As Alfred's eyes widened next to him, Bruce worked the locator program he had, hoping the teen was on his way home or at a known friend's location. Rule 4 allowed for alone time away from the manor, but everyone was required to say who they were staying with if it were overnight. The real requirement was to keep your cellphone on and your tracer running. After their talk a few weeks ago about curfews and staying on the grid, he was certain he wouldn't break that rule.

Both of them were on. Just not moving nor anywhere near one of Dick's friends' places. Or anywhere he'd normally be. What was in that district? Last he knew, that part of Gotham was under construction. Then again… The signal bounced to another part of Gotham, then another. "Something's wrong with the tracer program. Scrambling it. Dammit Dick, where are you!"

"Master Bruce," the butler tried, placing a firm hand on his former ward's shoulder to calm him, "may I suggest taking a different approach? Most parents call their children before trying to use a tracer. It may be nothing to worry about."

"Maybe." Bruce turned off the program and brought up Dick's cell number to try a normal approach. All he received on the other end was an automated response saying the number had been disconnected. "Disconnected? That's impossible!"

"Sir?"

"His phone's not picking up." He ended the call and started on a ring of numbers connecting him to Dick's friends' families. Who cared if it was past one in the morning. He was going to find his son.

* * *

A/N: So! Let's review here! at least one more like straight from the show, another slight reference to Red Hood and Catlad, Hal gets in teh way of dinner, adn Bruce has a frantic parental panic attack. That about sum it up? What i like is that Bruce could have noticed a lot earlier that Dick was missing, but didn't because he wanted to give the kid more space. He really is ready to fix things between them. Too bad Slade is now in the way.

I know I may not have gotten wintergreen right, but this i guess is my version of him. He'll play a part in this story, but is more of a supporting character than an antagonist. Either way, you'll like the end results, I hope. ENJOY!

Rule 4 - Always have your tracer and phone on. How can we find any of you if you're kidnapped? Report in to someone we know so we know you're alive when you don't want to be around anyone for a while. Stay on the grid.


	17. 17 – Scene of the Crime

The detectives rise

* * *

**17 – Scene of the Crime**

He hadn't slept. The whole night and morning consisted of phone calls, driving, and running around known haunts and safe houses Dick would use. Nothing had turned up. Bruce was at wit's end when he stopped to knock on the Gordon residence's door. Jim was among the first people he called to tell the truth, and the commissioner had offered to lend his taskforce to help find the young man, but Bruce had declined, saying he hadn't exhausted his leads yet.

Now he had.

"Mr. Wayne!" Barbara was the one who opened the door, quite surprised to see him. "What are you doing here?"

"Have you seen Dick?" As always, he cut straight to the chase. Frankly he was tired, cold, and frantic for some sign that the boy was alright. "He didn't come home last night."

"What? You think I have him?" The redhead gave him a shrewd glare. They weren't on the best of terms since he and her father had compared notes about their children. Learning of their budding romantic relationship made both fathers defensive and protective over them. Dick was still forbidden from dating last she heard, and her father's main objection (only one really) was that he was jailbait and she a young adult. Who cared if it was only a two year difference max? Age didn't matter to the couple, but made all the difference in the world to the helicopter parents they dealt with.

Bruce shook his head, his exhaustion starting to show. "No, that's not it."

"Then why are you asking me?" She folded her arms defensively. She didn't note how worn the man was, nor did she care. She really liked Dick and this man kept getting in the way! Even got her dad in on it! "I don't—"

"Barb! Close the door!" Jim Gordon shouted behind her. "You're letting the cold in!"

"Sure thing Dad!"

Before she could slam it on the man's face, Bruce charged forward, grabbing the edge of the door and calling in. "Jim! Have you called in to work this morning?"

"Bruce?" Commissioner James Gordon came out around the corner curiously when he heard the younger man's voice. One look at him was all he needed before he ushered the man inside. "Dear lord, you look terrible! Have you slept at all?"

"No, not a wink." He gladly came in, earning a slight glare from Babs as she shut the door behind him. But the conversation quickly perked her interest and concern. "Dick hasn't checked in with anyone. I can't find his phone or motorcycle—"

"You let him drive that contraption in this weather?" Gordon led him into the kitchen, pouring a hot cup of coffee and handing it to the weary man he set at the table.

"I told him to take a car instead," he shook his worn head, "but he insisted. Stubborn fool. I've checked friends, old teachers, places he used to visit, everything in Gotham I could think of."

"What about that old circus of his?" Jim offered, trying to help.

"Haly's doing a tour in Europe." Bruce sipped the cup, cringing slightly at the excessively bitter taste that came with it for a moment, but otherwise didn't complain. "Unless Dick's stowed away on a boat, there isn't a chance he went there."

"Wait," Barbara stepped into the conversation, a pit growing in her stomach. "Are you saying Dick's seriously missing? As in gone gone?"

"As far as I can tell." Both hands ran through his hair in desperate frustration, worry continuing to eat at him. "I've been looking all night for any sign of him, any hint of where he disappeared to."

"When did you notice he was missing?" Jim asked, almost as if he were back at the office with a regular worried parent. But this wasn't a normal case. This was Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson. They'd been through so many kidnappings it was embarrassing. Often times they had to save themselves. Dick being missing overnight didn't bode well.

"He left around four yesterday afternoon. He was supposed to be back for dinner… Promised to be back…" Bruce closed his eyes for a moment, remembering the inquiries, the promises. "I should have checked in on him before going into my office. Work kept me busy until about one and when I checked on everyone…"

"You check on your kids at night?" Barbara asked, slightly upset by the idea.

"When I'm up," he answered frankly.

"It's not that uncommon Barb," her father reminded her. He looked back to Bruce as the young woman turned away guiltily. She really was being too harsh on the guy. "Is that when you started calling around?"

"Yes." The defeated tone in the man's voice struck at both of them. They never heard him quite like this, and they'd known him for years.

"Finally ready to accept some help, and let me do my job?" Bruce kept others out of it to keep the whole thing quiet. Dick suffered enough public humiliation to satisfy the tabloids for years. He hadn't even called in his friends at the League yet, hoping it was just a rebellious teenager thing. Maybe that was a mistake.

"Kidnappings aren't part of the major crimes unit are they?" His mind wasn't working right at the moment. He only had one thought on his mind: find Dick.

Gordon shook his head knowingly. Many panicked parents acted the same way. "Commissioners overlook many departments. I just personally get involved with major crimes. I'll put out an amber alert. It'll close down the busses, railways, and airports at the very least."

"May as well close state borders too." Bruce almost winced at the thought of how far he could have gone. "I haven't seen him on over fifteen hours."

Jim nodded in understanding, but continued. "I'll have men back tracking his movements from when he left your house. We should be able to find a lead from there. But we're going to need your complete cooperation, and you have to go home."

He jerked at him in alarm. "I can't just sit still and—"

"I know." The commissioner knew very well that Bruce Wayne couldn't sit still when one of those he cared about was in danger and wait. "But you have four others at home who need you too, and he may come home when you aren't there. Or you may receive a phone call or ransom note. Either way, it's best you go home, and get some rest while you're at it. You're exhausted."

"I'm fine!" He stood on his feet to prove it, glaring at him. "Alfred's at home with the others! I need to—"

His phone started playing a rock tune loudly, silencing him in an instant. As his hand flew to the cell in his pocket, the Gordons exchanged looks. Was that Dick's ring tone?

"Jason?"

Apparently not.

"_Hi Dad._"

"What is it? Is everything alright at home?"

"_With Dickybird missing, would it be?_" There was a pause on his end. "_And I'm not exactly at home. We got Alfred to tell us what happened. Tim got this brilliant idea to try tracking Dick down with his credit and bank cards via your computer, you know, in case he was using them._"

The man listened to his second eldest for a long time, his eyes widening. "That's… logical. Any hits?"

"_Yeah, and lots of red flags._"

Red flags? "How?"

_"According to the records, he was supposedly buying beer in Chinatown. Coffee around there too._"

Donning came to his eyes. "Someone stole his wallet."

"Stole whose wallet?" Jim was on his feet, wishing the conversation was on speaker. "Is he talking about Dick?"

Bruce held up a finger to silence him, glaring at the air. Jason continued, not hearing the commissioner on the other end. "_Yeah, we figured that out too. So we tracked the guy who took it down and—_"

Alarm and worry only grew on the man's face. "What do you mean we? Tracked who down? Jason, where are you? Who's with you?" The anger and worry in Bruce's tone was not lost on the kid.

"_We're all at a warehouse on the southwest side of Gotham, near Brown Bridge. We found Dick's bike. And…" _the teenager hesitated, not exactly happy to tell the rest of the story._ "A dead body._"

"What?" The breathless disbelief matched the teen's actual state.

"_Yeah. Can you get over here? And bring the cops? Tim's having a full blown panic attack, Cass is keeping Dami from contaminating the scene further, and Alfred's trying to calm everyone down._"

"Which warehouse?" The man demanded, becoming charged with energy with each passing second. Barbara took a step forward, worry now taking control of her face. She knew Jason, and heard plenty of stories about how reckless he could be. And with Dick missing, she was sure his siblings would do quite a few more extreme actions than usual.

"_S14-D3. Kinda hard to find. Had to talk to a security guard to find it. We've got the little thief from before tied up outside the building so it should be easier to—_"

"Stay where you are. I'll be there in twenty with Commissioner Gordon. Don't touch anything."

"_Wasn't intending to._" And with the tone of the teen's voice, he'd keep that promise.

Bruce nodded once before clicking off his phone and giving Jim a determined glare. "Call in your men. We have a lead."

"I'll go. You go home and—"

"Jason and the others found a crime scene." His worried glare became shadowy and dark. He wasn't about to back down now. Never could. "A corpse."

* * *

Police lights flashed as both Gordon and Wayne's cars drove up to the warehouse in question. Regular police cars followed them at a distance. It took them a little time before they could locate the building, tucked away where most couldn't see it. There were no cameras pointed towards it from other buildings and the lighting around the area hadn't improved in that particular quadrant. They would have missed it entirely if Bruce didn't recognize Dick's motorcycle, one of his cars, and saw a man freezing outside it, zip-cuffed to a poll. With one small body running straight towards their cars as soon as they appeared, the location was assured.

Tim nearly floored him when Bruce exited his vehicle, his small form shivering and sniffling long before he made impact. The horribly sleep deprived father quickly gathered him up and tried his hardest to calm him. "I've got you Timmy. It's going to be okay. Shh… I've got you."

"She's dead…" The man heard through the panicked sobs. "She's dead… He's dead…. All gone… Cold… And… So much…"

"Shhh…. It'll be okay." Bruce could only guess what was going through the kid's mind. Occasionally Tim had night terrors from long buried memories of finding his father's body when he was three. Back then he was the one who called 911, soon found by police in a near catatonic state and covered in blood between the two bodies. Thankfully Bruce was one of Jack's emergency contacts and was quickly called up to help the then toddler calm down, but severe damage was done. Timmy suppressed all memory of his biological father, too young to remember much anyway. Finding this body, whoever 'she' was, must have brought the only concrete one he had back to the surface. "I've got you."

"Young Master Jason is still inside," Alfred explained as he came towards the two, carrying a very sleepy Damian and Cassandra tagging along silently. He had only a little more rest than his employer and yet looked no worse for wear. He still wasn't pleased though. He looked to the commissioner who quickly joined them as he updated them on what they found. Other sirens could be heard in the distance.

"They have touched nothing but the door handles and a few boxes. And this." The butler put a hand in one pocket, pulling out a USB port antenna wrapped in a handkerchief. He scowled at the device. "Until Master Jason had found and removed this offending device, we could not even call out."

Jim Gordon took the piece of evidence, wrap and all, looking it over as if it were a puzzle he couldn't solve. Very possible. His skills were in deductive reasoning, not technology. Thankfully his tagalong daughter was.

"Looks like a wireless router. Some of these guys have built in programs. What was it connected to?"

"Barbara," her father chided, "please, let me do my job." The redhead nearly rolled her eyes, but worry for her boyfriend took precedence over giving him attitude. The commissioner gave a slight sigh before looking back to the butler. "Okay, where did he find it? And didn't that phone call say something about a…" He hesitated saying more when he heard Tim's sniffling again.

"Miss Cassandra will lead you," Alfred informed them. He looked back to his employer who continued to comfort his stricken son, despite listening intently. "The entire warehouse is fashioned into a maze if one goes through the obvious door. We found another, but it only opens from the inside. There are tire tracks just outside it."

"Any you recognize?" Bruce demanded. Gordon was about to go to the door when he mentioned that bit.

"A common winter tread I'm afraid." He butler waved off towards the highways and the bridge beyond. "They quickly join traffic after leaving the lot. Miss Cassandra followed them for a time while we waited for your arrival."

"We better get inside," the billionaire started. The commissioner raised a hand to stop him.

"I'll go inside. You stay out here and take care of your family." He motioned towards Tim still shaking in his arms.

Bruce's eyes narrowed defiantly. "Jason won't leave the scene until I get there. I'll keep Timothy's back to it and he'll be fine. Cassandra."

The Asian girl nodded, swiftly turning about and dashing towards the building. Her father immediately followed, quickly tailed by Gordon, frustrated. "For pity's sakes! Why can't you just… Barb! You stay out here! The squad needs someone they recognize to help find the place!"

"But…" the redhead whined to no avail.

"The scene doesn't need any more contamination!" Both burned with fiery frustration as they went to their designated locations. Though Barbara didn't like being told what to do in this instance, she understood why. Let her dad to his job was all. So she had to keep the butler and toddler company, outside, in the cold.

Once the two men were indoors, the policeman gave the billionaire a low growl. "Don't touch anything. Just get your son, then leave the building. This is my territory."

"Understood." It surprised Gordon and Cass he gave in so easily, but the hard look in his eye and the way he continued to rub the boy in his arms back put that surprise to rest. Just this once he'd do as he was told. Probably.

"This way," the girl ordered. "And watch your feet. There's a few traps here and there."

"Traps?"

"An obstacle course," she stated evenly. They turned a corner as she explained. "That's if you keep to the ground. We figured Dick only walked so far then went on top of the boxes to get to the end. Easier to solve."

"Agreed."

"I'm too old for that," Jim murmured, running a hand through his hair. Couldn't Gotham villains make anything simple? Maze and traps. This was looking more and more like a nightmare by the second.

Silently they maneuvered through the labyrinth, dodging trip wires and other simple traps before making it to the lit room at the end of it all. Jason was balancing on the edges of some crate walls looking at something high above them a bit closer, a digital camera dangling from his wrist. If the troublemaker wasn't so fond of rock wall climbing, Bruce would have been worried. Didn't stop the commissioner from telling him to get down from there. It was a good twenty feet off the ground after all.

"Just taking some pictures," the teen stated before pushing off and rolling into a backflip before reaching the ground. It was a maneuver Dick would be proud of, but not as graceful as the one he'd pull off. Practical. That was the way their dad would describe it. He landed about fifteen feet from the body in question, forcing himself not to look at it. "Haven't moved a thing. Why did you bring Tim back inside?"

"Had to see this for myself," the man explained, stopping his approach. Bruce didn't move any closer to the body, stopping just short of the neat pile of Dick's belongings. Neat. The only thing Dick kept neat was clothes, and that was for space purposes back in his circus days. Alfred liked it and that was why he kept it up. What laid on top of the pile made him take a step back. Phone was expected. Watch, high possibility. The rings… "Someone took him."

"Get over here!" Gordon ordered sharply, making certain Jason left the crime scene for the professionals. The teen rolled his eyes briefly before coming over and joining his family. "Really… what is with these kids of yours?! Checking out crime scenes… Please tell me you didn't touch the body."

"Didn't have to," Jason insisted, still not looking at it. He inclined his head over to Cass. "Cass is good at reading people, living or dead. She just barely saw it when Tim was about to check and she stopped him. He put two and two together at the same time I did and started having his break down."

"How did you find this place?" the officer demanded, going over to the body himself. Yeah. She was dead alright. At least twelve hours judging by the rigor.

"Recent online bank statements from our joint accounts." He stayed near Gordon but kept his eyes far away from the lady. "Tim's idea. Dick doesn't keep his wallet on him at all times, but he was going out to get presents. Usually he keeps it in his saddlebags unless necessary. Stops him from overspending. Tracked the money, found a pattern, found the guy using his cards and then got him to talk."

Inside the commissioner groaned. "How did you get him to talk?"

"Alfred."

He looked over to the boy's father still looking at the pile for an explanation. "He used to be British secret service, paperwork mostly. Any idea who she is or what she died of?"

"No idea." Jim took out his cellphone and started taking pictures of the body before taking out a rubber glove to actually search it. "We'll know more after the autopsy. Now get back outside, all of you. There's enough contamination here to have all your prints taken as is."

* * *

A/N: I watch way too many cop shows. No i don't. There's no such thing! 8D

Anywho, so everyone's looking for Dick, and he has a boatload of detectives trying to make sense of things. Tim on computer programs, Alfred on interrogation, Babs on IDing tech, Cass adn Jason on the legwork. Then you have Gordon and Bruce as chief commandos. So much fun! Yes, the woman died. no witnesses. And Slade chooses his victims well. YOu'll see in the next chapter. As for other things, since Dick's gone, the next one in charge is Jason. He's trying to keep it together, and does a fair job of it, while Timmy has a full blown meltdown. Sorry to say this, but for hte most part, Tim's a bit o a whimp in this world. He tries, gets fairly proficiant, but never excels in combat or field work. More of a lab guy...

Rambling. So now it's official. Dick's been kidnapped. There's some legal things to go through and some real life stuff (researched from way too many cop shows) that they have to go through. Some characters will only appear once or twice in the story, so I'm sorry, Babs doesn't get anymore than mere mentions in the future here. So sad. Ah well. Laters peoples!


	18. 18 – The Day After

More reactions and a small plan of action

* * *

**18 – The Day After**

They changed cars twice. Once outside of Gotham and a second time after they left the neighboring state. Now he was in the back of a semi, being forced into doing push-ups while the freezing thing was still moving. Very, very difficult. Especially with Slade's commentary, orders, and his feet on his back.

"On your knuckles Apprentice."

Dick gave him an exhausted and exasperated glare for a moment. He couldn't be serious?! He was barely keeping his balance in that thing! Perfectly formed push-ups with added weight was hard enough while in motion. But on his fists? Not even his PE teacher put him up to this! Sure Bruce told him how but… "Now Apprentice."

The man waved the controller around, no doubt smirking at him. Gritting his teeth, the acrobat shifted his hands into fists best he could, wobbling as he continued. Slade told him to keep going until he said stop. That was over half an hour ago. How could he keep going? His muscles were on fire, sweat was pouring down his face despite the cold, and he shook more and more with each squat. What number was he even up to?

"It's amazing you've made it this far on your own," the man started, watching him through his one eyed mask. Dick tried to ignore him as he talked, focusing on his task. His ears were starting to ring. "Most boys your age would have collapsed by now. Course, they don't have the sheer willpower you do. When a man's mind is made up, no force can stop him. Endure anything. With the right training, you alone could end a war."

'_Wars are pointless,_' the teen reminded himself, trying not to fall. '_They all end with peace talks. So just skip the killing and get straight to the talking._'

"I've had a hand in ending a few," he continued, "even before they've started. Taking out Kaznia's Admiral Chekov stopped a nuclear disaster. Maybe you'll be shooting down his successor in a few months."

"Ah!" Dick's concentration broke at those words, making him slip and fall flat on his chest, pinning his arm underneath him. He swore he cut his hand on something and bruised his sternum on impact, but that wasn't what really struck him.

Shooting? Killing? That was breaking Bruce's second rule. Not to mention going against everything he ever believed in since he was born. And Slade wanted him to do that in a few months? Horror filled him at the idea of what being his apprentice meant. He knew Deathstroke was the world's greatest tactician and one of the world's most dangerous men (nearly beat the Justice League once), but for a brief moment he forgot he was a leading assassin as well. His apprentice would one day take that roll.

"Is something the matter Apprentice?" He knew the man knew what was wrong. Dick could always tell when someone was amused just by their voice. Slade was baiting him into saying the wrong thing, he knew it. One slight wrong move and… "Don't tell me you're tired already."

Of course he was tired. The young man hadn't slept since his abduction, barely eaten anything. There was water nearby thankfully but he wasn't sure what the rules were yet. Maybe going for water without permission would be breaking them. Controlling his tongue and temper, the teen wormed his arm out from underneath him to try again. He tried not to think of the blood on his hands, both real and what would likely become real, as he tried to perform another set of push-ups. He collapsed again, this time from exhaustion. Stopping then trying to start something difficult again always proved harder. A third time he tried to get up, only for Slade's boots to grind into his back.

"That's enough. You've proven your dedication. Now," the man swished his feet away from him, walking around the collapsed boy on the metal floor, "drink up, take care of that hand, and be ready for your next evaluation."

"E… Eval… uation?" The acrobat panted laying on the floor, eyes bleary as the vibrations and hums of the vehicle carrying them went through his body. It was hard to think right then. '_Breathe, what's this guy planning? Breathe, ow that hurts. Breathe._'

"I know you're talented," Slade explained coyly. "But not yet polished. To be perfected, I need to know your flaws. To rid you of them."

'_Then get yourself a robot,_' Dick mentally ordered. No one was perfect. Not even Superman. He couldn't count how many times he and his family had one-upped the man of steel.

"Now, that hand. And hydrate yourself. Can't have you collapsing in the middle of a fight now can we?" The man walked a ways off from him, giving the boy enough space to move around freely, if he were able.

The young man looked at his hand after a minute of resting and didn't like seeing it. He wasn't bleeding much and the wound wasn't big, it just hurt a lot and came from one of the creases in his hand. Plus his knuckles were scratched up from the earlier exercise. It was the palms, not knuckles, of his hands that bore calluses. It'd be some time before his body could adapt to the training.

Another minute or so passed before Dick rolled to a position he could push himself up from. Water, medical. They were right next to each other. Had to get there, had to survive. Somehow, he had to beat this, beat Slade. And that meant doing what he man said. For now.

* * *

"Mr. Wayne!" "Mr. Wayne!"

"Mr. Wayne, what do you have to say about claims of your son running away?"

"Mr. Wayne! Any opinion of why your son's belongings were found next to the body of Shereen Macamyre?"

"Mr. Wayne! How will your son's disappearance affect Wayne Enterprises?"

"Any idea who could have assisted your son's disappearance?"

"What are your holiday plans now that your son is missing?"

"How are your other children handling the disappearance of Richard Grayson?"

"Any leads on who could have taken him?"

"Mr. Wayne!" "Mr. Wayne!"

The crowd of reporters was always annoying the past, but now it was unbearable. Everyone was trying to get a statement, from _The Inquisitor_ to _The Gotham Gazette_ to _The Daily Planet_. Dick wasn't gone for more than twenty-four hours and everyone was hounding him for details. He hardly had any, him or the police.

Bruce narrowly avoided being mobbed by reporters, saying 'no comment' or nothing at all when he left police headquarters. The FBI was staking out his house at the moment in case a ransom demand was made. But with only the body and Dick's belongings in a well-crafted warehouse labyrinth as a lead, they hardly had anything. All he knew now was the same as what he learned when he first made it to the crime scene.

Now he was home, with the press outside his gates and federal agents and police going in and about his house. The kids gathered in the study shortly after Alfred took them home, waiting for their dad to find time to sneak into the cave. Their home felt invaded and empty at the same time; and the truth was only one person was missing.

It was nearly night time again before Bruce could make it into the study where they were waiting. He dragged his feet, slowing down with all the overwhelming feelings surging through him, as he came inside, firmly shutting the door behind him. He locked eyes with them, seeing their fear and desperation for answers, only for him to close his eyes and shake his head in grief. "I'm sorry. We—"

He couldn't get the words out. How could he explain…

But he didn't need to. Seeing his state, all four of his children remaining ran to him. The man fell to his knees and gathered up as many of them in his arms as he could, desperate to keep them there where it was safe. He wanted them safe, happy, warm, and whole. And yet without Dick, all of that was gone. A gaping hole appeared in their lives, one he couldn't fill himself. All he could give them was what he had right then and there, strong arms to hold them, and a cave to hide away from the rest of the world in.

* * *

Bruce had his head in his hands, leaning heavily against the computer console in the cave, taking in every emotion he tried to suppress throughout the past thirty hours. Every piece of anxiety flowed through him, trying to form tears but constantly being burned away by rage. Dick was missing, and he had no means to find him. Every person he knew was against him or the League, and knew the connection between them, was accounted for or had a signature he would have recognized. This was someone entirely new.

"Why didn't you call me first?!"

He gave a sardonic smirk at the voice. "I wondered when you'd show up." The tired and worn man looked towards the red and blue Boy Scout floating next to him, just as enraged and worried as he was deep inside.

"I was at the police station," Superman insisted, glaring daggers, "and at the front gate. Why didn't you call?"

"Because at first I didn't know for certain he was kidnapped." Bruce looked beyond him to the medical beds on the far side of the cave. None of the kids felt safe in their beds with all the FBI and police people in the manor and the reporters outside. Word had spread quickly and now the whole family was under attack in smaller ways. Under most circumstances, when any of them felt scared, he'd just have a crowded bed. Not this time. "Then I couldn't find an opportunity. Too many people..."

"Of course he was kidnapped!" The kryptonian barked. "What other option could there be?" He received a long look from the mortal and blinked. He never saw the man so worn. Tired yes, but not like this. "He wouldn't just run away… right?"

The man shook his head, not knowing. "Dick and I… we've been fighting. On Halloween I… well, suffice to say, we haven't been on the best of terms the past couple months. I… might have given him reason to want to leave—"

"But he wouldn't," his friend insisted, believing in the lad.

"No, he wouldn't." Bruce looked away mournfully, seeing his children again. "If it were just the two of us, I have no doubt he would have left to cool his head. But he doesn't abandon his siblings. He loves then too much—"

"He loves you too—" Superman cut in.

But he ignored him. "And they need him. Dick wouldn't run away from them. And certainly not like this.

"I've been giving him space," he continued, "trying to figure out what I should do to… Help him? Raise a teenager? Let him go? Still don't know what I'm doing. I pretend I do but…" Bruce shook his head tiredly. "Before he left yesterday, he made promises. We were going to talk, hopefully figure this out. He's stayed out late and all night before so I thought…"

"You thought he might have stayed over at someone else's place?" It was beginning to make sense now.

"For a little bit," he admitted. "Bad traffic, lost track of time, normal things. Then his signal made no sense. No alarms, no sirens, I couldn't be sure what had happened. I didn't want to call you in until I was certain something was wrong. You or anyone else. Searched all night. It was Jason and Tim who found a lead, and that's only given more questions."

"So you didn't call me in," Superman interpreted, setting his feet on the ground at last, "because you didn't know for certain if he was taken or being a rebellious teen still mad at you."

"In a way." He actually didn't call him in because this was something of a personal matter and he was thinking as a frantic worried father instead of as Batman at that time. The former vigilante should have called his friend for help first. Maybe they would have found the warehouse sooner and the car that took him. "By the time I thought of you or the League, the police and FBI were involved."

"Who came up with the runaway theory?" That was what struck the man of steel. Who would think Dick would just leave like this?

"Some federal agent not interested in finding anyone." Bruce brought up the records of an Agent Farrel, glaring at him. The man didn't look too bad really, but he wasn't on record for solving many cases. Writing people off as runaways seemed to be his MO. "He thinks Dick left on his own accord because there was no struggle and he left everything he was wearing behind. Thinks he's been planning this for months."

"Everything?" He looked at the man oddly. "But he only has one term of school left right? And it's nearly Christmas. This really doesn't make any sense."

"He left his parents' wedding rings behind." The haunted, serious gaze in the CEO's eyes struck his friend. It was what sealed the deal for him. "Dick never takes those off. I couldn't trace those even if I tried and he knows it. If he really ran away, he'd take clothes, cash, and every piece his family owned he could carry, then run to Haly's Circus. But they're in Europe right now and everything is where he usually puts them. He wouldn't ruin other people's holidays like this and he definitely wouldn't have left before graduation."

"So he was taken."

"Manipulated." Bruce's computer program finally finished running, exposing the data it'd been running for the past half hour. Quickly he opened it to see the results. "His clothes were folded properly, no signs of a fight at all. It's likely he was lured out there, then used Shereen Macamyre to coerce him somehow."

"Shereen Macamyre?" The reporter hadn't heard that name before.

"The dead woman they found in that place. Probably killed to keep her quiet. A perfect murder."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because no one can do an autopsy on her without violating their doctor oaths or being under threat of lawsuits." His eyes narrowed on the information before him. "Her family's faith requires the body to be whole for burial. Coroners can't even determine cause of death beyond looking over her body and taking blood samples. She'll be cremated in two days."

"Giving me two days to do X-rays and gathering samples without anyone being the wiser," the other man murmured slowly. That could satisfy a few Leaguers and one worried bat. Superman saw the frustration growing on his friend's face then looked at the screens. "What is it?"

"Dick was getting a series of texts from different burn phones," Bruce growled, slumping back into his chair. He was hoping to get more information from his son's phone, but someone had sent out an electromagnetic wave before leaving that building. Recreating the device's memory was nigh impossible. "One of those had to be luring him out and all I've got is a garbled message!"

The alien looked over the message the program managed to piece together and frowned.

_-mily's secr – und-wor – truth - S14D3 – alo - 4p - _eat Expect_- mi-_

"Looks like someone knew something about you guys." His eyes widened, jerking over to Bruce's face as he pieced it together. "You think someone figured out you were Batman and that you're supporting the League?"

"That or who Damian or Cassandra's other parentages' are. Either way," the man wasn't happy as he reached the obvious conclusion, "Dick must have been convinced someone knew the truth about something and was going to expose us to our enemies. A meet was set and Dick went."

"This could break down Ferrel's runaway theory."

"Or reinforce it." He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "If we can figure out who this person is, or what they knew, we might have a solid lead."

"Can't trace where the other person bought their phone?" Bruce just gave him an annoyed glare. "Working on it?"

"Tracing phones, even burn ones, takes time. There are millions of numbers issued out there and a computer, even this one," he motioned to the giant contraption before them and the crays beyond, "needs time to go through them. I'm running all the leads I can under the circumstances."

"Ah." Superman looked over the pieced together text for a moment and frowned. "I'll go take care of Shereen Macamyre then do a few sweeps through the city. With any luck, you'll get a call from the kidnapper before I return."

The man just nodded, still staring at the screen as the kryptonian left the cave. He barely heard him murmur, "I have a feeling this isn't going to be that simple Kent. Not this time."

* * *

A/N: Hello again! Quick recap: Dick's already out of the state, and considering all the states Gotham is said to be in (really varies on the writer and source), not that hard. The New England area doesn't have huge states. His apprentice training has already started, and that includes muscle training. Since Slade's ex-military, his methods aren't going to be like PE classes and normal Personal trainers (I work at a gym, I have a general idea what trainers do). I did warn you about really harsh training coming up and POW treatment, and some of it will be iffy, high T warning stuff. Seriously there's this breaking point chapter where I seriously debated putting a M warning on this, but since I don't go graphic and it's no worse than some dramatic scenes on TV or in pg13 movies, I thought I'd keep it at T. So warning, **Dick's going to go through hell**. as someone else said, I am evil, especially to him.

On the blipside, the kids are scared on multiple levels, and Bruce is going nuts with the public repercussions. Think about it: one of the richest people on the planet's son vanishes and the last confirmed location he is at has a dead body. That is not going to go well. Kidnappings usually fall under FBI jurisdiction right? especially of high profile people and over state borders. Unfortunately they got a crappy one. Also unfortunately, the dead lady cannot give them any answers while being dead. There are faiths out there that forbid autopsies and I have seen shows where Doctors got into serious trouble for performing them anyway, even for murder cases. All that could be done is what Supes can do. It isn't a lot, but it can help in the future, when they know what they're looking for.

Love Superman's reaction. Fun times! See ya monday!


	19. 19 – X-Mas Nightmare

The beginning of some pretty traumatizing stuff, for Dick. =P

* * *

**19 – X-Mas Nightmare**

December 25th. Christmas. And what was Dick's present from the psychopath who took him captive through very effective blackmail? Blue skies above him, thick trees and light snow around him, and a tablet with a recorded video feed of his family the previous night.

They still hadn't discovered the cameras in the manor. They didn't know how dangerously close they were to being discovered as being the greatest supporters of the Justice League or that Bruce was Batman. The study was one room Slade didn't have a camera. He recognized every room they were in, and each of them were public areas open to people during parties. The last one they had at the manor was in early November, a charity function. They weren't required to attend it for very long so he didn't remember the guest list. No wonder they hadn't realized Slade was there back then.

Watching his family now, the teen could tell he was missed. Damian was the only one really smiling as they put gifts for each other under the tree. But even his smile faded when he looked around expectantly. Tim didn't even try to hide smaller gifts in the tree's branches like usual. Cass was making herself as small as possible in her favorite chair, looking over to where an FBI agent was posted at the phone. Jason was trying to lift people's spirits with carols, but failed to lift his own. He could read his lips trying to sing 'Mele Kalikimaka', only to bite them shut. Alfred bustled around the room, offering tea, coffee, and hot chocolate to everyone in there, if only to keep himself busy.

And Bruce? He was often looking out the window, searching for something that wasn't there. In one hand was his phone, having finished a call with someone, one of many no doubt. The worry on his face was evident in every crinkle, in every random white hair he had on his head. His clothes looked like they were worn a few days in a row, and with the dark circles under his eyes, he wouldn't be surprised if he had.

'_The League's probably looking for me now,_' Dick thought idly, keeping his gaze on his family on the screen. '_Probably trying to keep in contact with them above ground, get more info if they have any. Can they have any? Slade did a pretty thorough job getting me lost out here. And where's Selina? Bruce could really use her right now. Don't tell me she's still in Hawaii. Uhg. Just what we need; two disappearing acts during the holidays._'

He looked back to his siblings, spotting one of the rashes Slade mentioned before. Cass had hers on the back of her neck, right next to where her brainstem would be. It was small and faded compared to the lady at the warehouse's, but it was still there. He remembered his sister scratching the thing about a month back. Why hadn't he suspected anything wrong back then!

The big brother's thoughts ended when he saw Damian trip over one of the packages. Everyone jerked forward to help him when he fell, including himself. The three year old screamed and cried, probably tired more than hurt, on the floor for a second before Tim of all people came to his side and picked him up. He watched as the two youngest held on to each other for a moment then realized Tim was imitating what he did whenever the two had fallen in the past: picking them up, holding them close, and rubbing their backs and swaying in time to whatever music was playing. For once Damian was holding onto Tim, sad and tired, but not fighting him. They were actually getting along.

"Good job you two," Dick murmured softly, proud of them. He continued to watch them fondly as Bruce came over with the bat-blanket the toddler liked and wrapped his youngest up in his arms. Jason gave Tim a supportive pat on the back as they started to disperse from the room. It was Christmas Eve after all, they had to get some sleep.

Alfred lingered in the room with the agent, looking at one particular set of gifts around the tree. Sadness peeked out of the Brit's features, despite all his training to mask it. Those were the presents they found in his room. The ones he was going to pick up earlier would have been sent to the manor that afternoon if he forgot to. Receiving them must have sent new waves of worry through them. At least they knew Dick was thinking of them before disappearing.

"Time's up Apprentice."

The acrobat took a slow long breath to try and calm his already racing, aching heart, before passing the tablet back over his shoulder. His master took it then passed it behind him to Wintergreen. Dick kept his back turned to the man, sitting on a rock a little ways away from their camp.

It was an abandoned military training camp. The reason why was unclear, but it gave them shelter, a generator, running water, and plenty of firewood to keep them warm. Well, if the one-eyed psycho would let him be warm. That uniform he was wearing wasn't very well insulated. But something about this place made the winter cold bearable. There wasn't much snow at the least. It was why Dick had gone outside to see his family instead of staying indoors. Besides, he absolutely hated the company.

"I have another gift for you Apprentice," Slade started, stepping around him to make them look at each other, face to face.

"Unless it's the detonator and my freedom, I'm not interested." He turned away, glaring hate at the ground. In the past few days he learned he could get away with a little sass every once in a while. Attempts to grab the detonator were even acceptable, and expected. Every sparring session they had he would try to grab it. Maybe if he hung around Selina more he would have learned to pick the guy's pockets for it, but he hadn't and every attempt gave him new bruises. And he had collected quite a few.

The man chuckled, amused by his antics. This was why he was allowed to be sassy; Slade thought it was funny. "No, I'm afraid not. You're not ready for that quite yet. This though, you will be."

Despite himself, the acrobat took the box the man passed to him and started to open it. As soon as he saw what was inside, he panicked and threw it as far away from him as possible, box and all. He jumped to his feet, leaping away from the thing in rage and fear. How could he…

The assassin chuckled to himself, highly amused. "It's only a gun Apprentice. Not a bomb, a contagious disease, or a snake. Only a gun."

"ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!" A gun. Just a gun. They weren't even allowed to talk about guns around Bruce! No squirt guns, nerf guns, popguns, B.B. guns, or even gun related games were allowed in the manor. Rule 2 was one no one dared to break on purpose, especially around Bruce (well, Jason occasionally did, but he avoided doing so around Bruce). Guns ended lives! A gun killed Jason's father. Tim's dad had a gun when he was killed, taking his murderer down with him. Cass was regularly shot by her biological father. Then there were Bruce's parents. And how many times had a gun been pointed at him and the others? Guns were never good. Batman hated them.

"Are you that afraid of something so useful?" Slade sounded quite amused by his outburst.

"I am NOT USING THAT!" He pointed vehemently at the firearm, shaking slightly. He couldn't… he wouldn't! He was not capable of killing, of using that thing!

"Do you really think you have a choice in the matter, _Apprentice_?" A slight edge entered the man's voice, driving icy daggers into the boy's chest. He fingered the pocket holding the trigger for the probes, making the boy turn white, breathing uneven. Slowly Dick closed his eyes, the fight leaving him. He shook his head, cringing away but not moving anywhere. Slade smirked behind his mask. "Good. Now be a good boy and pick up your gift."

Slowly he obeyed, hearing Bruce's disapproving voice in his head the entire time. Maybe it was all of that man's lectures conditioning him to react that way to the horrid weapon, but he still couldn't stand the feel of it in his hands. Cold and heavy, so very different from his weapons of choice. Batarangs and escrima sticks were his personal favorites, dull and required more skill. Bo staves and bolos were close seconds. If Batman could see him with that thing now, he'd be highly disappointed in him.

"Wayne never taught you how to hold one of these has he?" Dick bit his lip at Slade's comment before shaking his head. Guns and Bruce usually did not go in the same sentence. Exasperated, the assassin came to his side and repositioned his hands to hold it correctly, even at rest. "Pathetic man. I taught my sons that when they were five."

"Don't call him pathetic," the teen snapped without thinking.

"What was that? _Apprentice_?"

He wanted to take back that remark immediately after saying it. Some sass was allowed. A lot of it could mean punishment. But he already started, may as well finish. "He saw his parents die because of one of these things. Can you really blame him for not wanting anything to do with them? It takes a lot of courage to stand up again after something like that."

"You continue on a trapeze," Slade shot back, not impressed.

"Falling was part of the job," Dick rebutted, turning towards him with a clenched jaw. "And they'd be upset if I quit just because they fell, no matter the circumstances. His dad was a surgeon. Guns aren't part of the job description. There's a difference."

"And yet he still fears them," the man was still not impressed.

"He's not scared of them!" He jerked away from the man, glaring daggers despite still having the weapon in his hands. "He just knows what they can do and has compassion enough not to use them!"

"And in turn convinces you to fear them." Far from impressed. "A coward."

"You're one to talk!" Anger boiled inside him alongside his fear. "Blackmailing me by holding four kids' lives in your hands?! Trying to teach me how to be like you when I'd rather die! Badmouthing someone who'd take in five kids he never met before without question or reason! Hiding behind that pathetic excuse for a mask! Probably can't even face your own kids because of your career! You're the definition of a coward Slade!"

His ranting was cut off by a sharp slap across his face. Dick always had a problem stopping his mouth when he was angry. Said one word too much. He knew the man was glaring death upon him now. Must have hit a particularly bad spot. The teen kept his eyes on the ground, trying to control his breathing. He forgot for a moment what was really on the line there.

Slade took the gun away from him before saying a single word more. "You're clearly forgetting how things work around here Apprentice. Run around the fence, and keep going until I say otherwise. Now."

He didn't need another invitation. Instantly the acrobat was running to the wire mesh fence around the base and started running alongside it. Anything was better than having to be near that man. If he were anything like that criminal, he would have just shot him with that gun instead of yelled at him. But if he shot him, he'd be no better than Slade. And one thing he didn't want to be was him.

* * *

Dick nearly collapsed, exhausted from running. Slade hadn't told him to stop for nearly three hours! PE had him run forty minutes before, but they built up to it. Bruce and he would go jogging for an hour during the summers once, and later as he grew up and debated playing for different sports teams he kept it up, but never had he run that long at that pace! Dripping in sweat and shivering from the cold, he wondered what the point was of running that long.

Oh yeah, he called Slade Wilson, Deathstroke the Terminator, a coward. Well he earned it. He called Bruce pathetic.

"Get over here Apprentice," the assassin ordered, pointing to one part of the lot. The ground was mostly concrete there, making the acrobat wonder what he was planning next. Slade didn't stop him for any one reason. There was always more than one. Shakily the teen obeyed, gasping for air. Wasn't it about time he had some water?

Apparently not. Glaring at him, his master barked an order. "Strip."

"Wh… what?" He couldn't be serious.

"You smell." The glare remained firm in his one eye. "Strip."

The man's hand went to that pocket, making Dick stiffen. Great. Glaring at him now, he started taking off the uniform the man forced on him earlier that week. There were no clothes or coverings to replace these one nearby. Wintergreen wasn't even around. He was not going to like this.

The teenager stopped short of his underwear and undershirt, shivering in the December air. A harder edge entered Slade's voice. "All of it."

"You've got to be—"

"NOW!"

'_Pervert._' Still glaring at him, probably more now, he removed what was left then buckled over as a cramp started in his back and legs. Warm muscles being suddenly exposed to freezing temperatures did not react well.

"On your feet Apprentice."

'_Nazi._' Clenching his teeth and slowly stretching out his muscles to alleviate the pain, he returned to a standing position. Just in time to see a fire hose in Slade's opposite hand, ready for use. '_Huh?_'

"It's time for your shower."

"Wha—NO!"

Realizing what was happening too late, he threw his hands in front of him defensively just before the water shot forward at him. The pressure of it threw him against the chain-link fence behind him, further bruising his muscles. He cried out in pain and agony as the water hit him, moving up and down his body. He tried to get away, tried to evade the spray, but Slade's aim was true the entire time. His moving around only made it possible for the evil creature to torment his entire body. Desperate for some stability, he gripped the fence and felt the cold metal rip into his skin. He let go after a moment and slid down to the concrete slab beneath him, just taking the pressure and the pain accompanying it.

He huddled on the ground for maybe a minute, shivering and trying not to cry out in pain as the water hit him before it stopped. Once it ended, the winter chill struck him with more force than it had when was buried in snow back home. Shivering took control immediately. This… this was too cruel. Why did he…

A towel was thrown over him. Not a large one, but not one of the dinky kinds either. "Dry up and get inside. We're not done for today yet. Don't bother getting dressed, they need cleaning."

Slade turned away, tossing the hose aside as he headed back into the bunker they were using at the moment. Dick just shivered here in the cold, one hand on the towel covering him. Why… Why was this happening to him?! What did he do to deserve this?! Why had Slade…

Even with the cold seeping into his body, the horror filled daggers striking his heart were worse. If he hadn't shown off, none of this would have happened. And now lives depended on him cooperating with a mad man. That meant living. Slowly he broke from his private huddle and started wiping himself off. He had to get dry then go inside. That's all that mattered at the moment. Get dry, get inside. Get dry, get inside. Survive.

Oh, and Merry Christmas.

* * *

A/N: See why I started debating an M rating? I saw this method of breaking and torture on Pretender and on some war movie a long time ago and thought it was pretty good to use when you did not want to damage an asset too badly. There will be other breaking techniques used by Slade in the future, but NO SLASH. Dick's on his guard against anything resembling pedophilia, and will get in trouble for thinking about it. Nakedness has more to do with being exposed to the enemy and being ultimately vulnerable more than anything else here. It's hard to be confident and strong when you're in your birthday suit and your enemy's wearing armor, a mask, and has a detonator on him. Most of the torture he goes through will be psychological.

About the sore spot Dick hit during his rant, it was about Slade's kids. His career as a mercenary got joey's vocal cords cut, ruined his marriage, and led to Grant's death. So Everything Dick said was right. No one wants to be told how much they screwed up their life. And I love this one thing Dick said once in the comics: no one's allowed to badmouth your dad except you. This is what Slade gets for calling Bruce pathetic.

On a last note, Timmy and Dami fluff! so cute! Everyone steps up a bit when Dick's gone. =]


	20. 20 – Pancakes and Night Terrors

I like giving people nightmares

* * *

**20 – Pancakes and Night Terrors**

Well over a week past, and Bruce found himself sitting on the edge of Dick's bed, holding onto a worn stuffed elephant, gazing off into the distance. A whole week, nearly two, gone. Not a single sign of his son anywhere. Not even a ransom demand. Agent Ferrel was gaining supporters quickly.

"Daddy?" The soft, drowsy whine of his youngest jerked him out of his revere, looking around to the door. Damian rubbed an eye as he stepped closer to where he found his father. When did he wake up? "Whewe'd you go?"

"Damian..." Quietly, the man placed Peanut back onto the bed's pillows and walked around the room to where the child was coming in. Kneeling down, he swept up the child into an embrace, hoping to cuddle him back to sleep. "Hey there kiddo. Shouldn't you be in bed?"

A slow shake of the babe's head, then a yawn, reminded him of how willful his blood was. Drowsily, he looked up pleadingly to his father. "Daddy? Whewe's Dick?"

For a moment he hesitated, then Bruce answered in the best way he could. "Dick's... far away right now. On a trip. He'll be back soon."

"Weawy?" A spark of hope and comfort came to the drifting child.

Choking back his own fears, his dad nodded. "Really. Dick will be back before you know it."

"Good." A smile graced the boy's features as he rested his head against the man's shoulder. "I miss him."

"Me too Dami," the father murmured, keeping his worry at bay best he could. "Me too."

* * *

"Richard?"

"Hm?" Someone was shaking his shoulder, trying to wake him up. He really didn't want to wake up. Way too comfortable and warm. This throat felt better than it had the previous day and he could breathe a little easier too. The only part of him that didn't feel better was his empty stomach, and until the guy started shaking him awake he could ignore that.

"It's time for your medication. You need to wake up and eat something."

"Mno… Sweep mo…" He really didn't want to move or get up, at all. He shifted a little, blindly looking for a familiar comfort but couldn't find it. Dick's face scrunched up in confusion for a moment and he actually opened his eyes blearily to look again. "Where's Peanut?"

"Peanut?"

More confusion grew on his face as his brain started to function. That wasn't Alfred's voice. Alfred was British and knew who Peanut was. This person clearly wasn't. Rolling a little off his stomach and looking over his shoulder (were there always this many blankets on him?) he spotted a man close to Alfred's age but a little less stiff. Still some kind of butler though.

Wintergreen. Right. That guy was something Wintergreen. He wasn't home and this wasn't his bed, no matter how warm or soft it was at the moment. The acrobat forgot he was sent to bed early by Slade for being a little sick. So what if he sneezed in the middle of a sparring match in the man's face. The man retaliated by giving him a bloody nose anyway. With all the training and stress and the cold he'd been enduring, it was a miracle he hadn't gotten pneumonia.

Dick groaned, flopped his head back into the pillow, and covered his head with the thick comforter that'd magically appeared on him while he was sleeping. He did not want to get up, even for food and meds. Course he did feel better after sleeping and the last dose, couldn't deny that. Maybe Slade was being serious when he said he wanted to be like a father to him. That comforter had to come from somewhere.

"Richard, you have to eat something." Wintergreen shook his shoulder again, trying to be patient. "If you're ever going to get better—"

"I want pancakes." The boy's voice may have been muffled, but what he said was clear enough to send a message.

The man blinked. "Pancakes?"

"Alfred makes some great pancakes." His head poked out to cool for a bit, remembering fondly. "He'd put in blueberries when I was sick and cover it in powdered sugar. Jay got jealous one time and drew red dots all over himself so he could get some too." He chuckled to himself at the memory. Jason was so cute when he was a sourpuss six year old with an attitude. He did everything to have the adults' attentions back then. They had fights all the time too. When did that change? "Bruce had a field day scrubbing them off for picture day. But he got some too. Pancakes are cool."

A calloused hand pressed against the boy's forehead. It felt good and cool, meaning… "Fever. Low but not too bad. Richard, I have a stew made up for you. Please sit up and eat it. Once you've had your fill and have taken your medication, you can go back to sleep."

"You forgot potty time." Ignoring the man's raised eyebrow, Dick pushed himself into a sitting position on the bed. They were helping Damian with his potty training before he was taken. "Can't purify the body without the potty."

"I bet." Shaking his head, Wintergreen passed the boy a bowl filled with stew (thick and hearty, but the seasoning needed work in the teen's opinion) and a garlicy roll. Slowly the captive worked his way through the meal and took the two pills the older man was giving him. This strange butler seemed okay to the boy, but he still had his doubts. The only reason he really took the meds was because they looked and tasted like the ones he had back when he was sick before the previous summer. "Don't try to palm them now."

Dick struggled to roll his eyes as he swallowed and lay back down. The militaristic butler (he watched the guy enough to know he was ex-military too) took the dishes and walked away, seemingly content. Didn't even stick around to make sure the boy fell asleep.

Big mistake.

Once the coast was clear, the teen slid out of his bed and silently crawled towards Slade's. There was a trunk at the foot of it, and it had a simple lock. He picked up a wire a couple days ago and slipped it into his pillow to use to either stab someone (pathetically) or pick a simple lock. Nothing really was simpler than those old trunks.

He swore he saw the assassin put the trigger into that trunk not too long ago. He had to get inside and find it. If he got a hold of it, he could run away. He knew how to make a quick sonic device and he knew the frequency for League emergency signals. If he could get his family out of danger, he could get Superman or the others out there to stop Slade and save him! Just had to get the trigger first.

It took a minute to undo the lock, but the soft click it made when he managed it was worth the effort. His head felt dizzy, clouded, but it hardly mattered. He had to search the trunk. Pushing past his exhaustion, Dick opened the lid and started taking a look around. Searching it quickly without making it obvious was going to be tricky. The insides were perfectly neat, arranged to precision. If he didn't already know Wilson was ex-military, he would have guessed it then.

Problem with the arrangement, he couldn't spot the trigger! He saw two cellphones, a Taser, a medkit, notebooks, bullets, that hand gun he was 'given', a journal, a set of keys, and quite a few sets of clothes along with other standard issued items. The cells were the highest tech items in the whole thing. There wasn't even a spare mask for the one-eyed monster.

"Maybe it's between the clothes..." he murmured to himself, trying to rethink what he saw before.

"Or maybe it's in my hands right now."

Dick stiffened at Slade's voice right behind him. When did he come in? Where was he until that moment anyway? He should have known getting into that trunk was too easy. The man leaned right next to his ear, whispering darkly. "Sneaking around to search my belongings... I'm disappointed Apprentice. You should have thought of this last week. At least you're able to pick a three pin lock in little over a minute while addled. If you're well enough for snooping, you're well enough for training. On your feet."

With a violent jerk, the assassin yanked his arm skyward, forcing him to stand. The teen bit back a yelp, but only barely. The creep's grip hurt, constantly landing on a bruise on that arm. Once released, Wilson shoved the boy forward. "Outside."

"I'm in pajamas!" He protested. "Barefoot!"

"You'll do it naked if I command it. Outside, now."

Glaring, the teen clenched his jaw and teetered outside like he was told. He heard the man slam the trunk shut then follow behind him. Once they were outside, he instantly wished he was back in that bed, demanding pancakes. The wind had picked up and snow was coming in. He'd catch hypothermia for sure. Hesitantly he looked over to the man who kept him there, silently telling the man he was crazy for even being out there. But it didn't change anything. The nutjob just waved him further out.

"Jumping jacks."

Teeth chattering, Dick forced his body apart and started performing the exercise. He always hated these. They really didn't do anything but cardio and minor flexibility, but they were popular. So he did them, and did them, and did them... Though his body was warming slightly from the activity and his body freezing from the wind, his eyelids started to droop.

'_Oh yeah, I'm sick..._'

Without meaning to, the teen tipped backwards, passing out and falling. His last thought was wondering exactly what was inside those meds he was given. After all, when someone fell into the snow, he shouldn't be feeling something warm beneath him.

* * *

They were flying through the crisp air, a crowd below them cheering merrily. Two performances a night, five on weekends. The bright lights, the loud music, the color filled tents, the smell of straw and dirt… everything was perfect.

But best of all, they were there.

"Ladies and gentlemen! The Flying Graysons!" Pop Haly's voice rang over everyone else's as the spotlight fell on them again and again. Dick swung from his bar, let go and into a quad, catching his father's rough hands. The smile on his face and the love in his eyes, it was everything he ever wanted. He knew his dad would never let him go, no matter what happened.

Soon he had to let go and twist around to catch his mother's hands. Her soft grasp was firm and calloused, and warm. Always warm. Her gaze filled him with joy, knowing her hugs and kisses were the sweetest. Her voice was all he needed to hear at night to calm down whenever he had nightmares or was scared. But here in the safety of that tent, there was no fear. They'd never fail to catch him.

She set him on to the platform then swung to his father. He watched them fondly as they grasped onto each other. She did a quick turning flip midair so he could grasp her ankles, freeing her arms again. It was almost time for Dick to join them again, for all of them to be on the same line. But something felt off. Just as he took hold of the bar swinging towards him, he realized what was coming.

'_No… not again…_'

Frozen in place, he watched the line snap and his parents fall, their eyes locked on his during the entire descent. The scent of blood mixed with the dirt and straw on the ground, carving a hole in his stomach. Wanting to scream out to them, he leapt off the platform. Instead of falling and dying like they did, he glided down, reaching their broken bodies within seconds.

But a third body was there. Some lady he never met before. He couldn't even see her face. Her body glowed orange and she lied still as if sleeping, but he knew death when he saw it. Before him were three corpses, only two he knew.

"Dick?" He turned at his name, horrified by what he saw and panicking that they would see. Tim came towards him, innocence in his eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Yeah Dickybird." Jason put a hand to his shoulder, concerned for him. "What's got you shaken up? You've been through his before, you can take it."

"Come on!" Damian tugged on his hand, pulling him towards the study of the manor. "Wet's pway!"

His spirits began to lift as his siblings dragged him inside. Cass had gotten away with wearing the cape and cowl upstairs and was serving hot chocolate and cookies. He gladly took one and helped the others settle down around the room. Damian was cuddling in his favorite chair with his bat-blanket around him and his bat-kitty in his arms, perfectly content just sitting there. Tim and Jason fought over the large chair next to the fireplace, nearly staining it with chocolate. Cass eventually sat on the loveseat, stretching out on it and taking up a book to improve her vocabulary. He personally sat on top of Bruce's desk and watched, laughing at them.

It was quite a show, those two fighting for no reason, their sister taking advantage of the space they gave her, and the baby settling down for a nap. There was all this room in the manor, and all they wanted was to be in the same place. That was family for you.

He was so content just sitting there, watching them, he almost didn't notice Slade walking around the room. Dick was the only one who seemed to know he was there, just walking around in his orange and black uniform as if inspecting the place. And he couldn't say a word about him being there. He wanted to scream and shout for his siblings to run away, but he couldn't say a word. Before he knew it, the madman was next to him, putting a trigger in his hand and making him press it.

Horror filled him as each of them screamed out in pain, glowing orange and writhing where they sat. Jason fell to the floor, trying hard to bite back the screams, to be brave. The chair they had fought over tipped backwards, throwing Tim for a painful loop and crying out all the while. Cass tried to scream but fell silent, unable to share how much she was hurting, like how she was when they first met. And Damian… he never heard a child scream like that. The pain they were enduring…

Their eyes fell on him, begging to be saved by their big brother. Pleading for him to do something to help them. Slade kept his hands on him, keeping him frozen in place. He couldn't do anything but watch. Their screaming intensified until they all fell limp and silent, dead eyes still watching him.

Behind him dishes crashed, jerking him around. Alfred was there, staring at him in horror and at the bodies beyond him, a tea set broken at his feet. "Master Richard… What have you done?"

"I…" Dick took a step back, alone with only the trigger in his hand. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't him… It wasn't… He couldn't…

Another howl of agony filled his ears, jerking him back around. Bruce was kneeling in the midst of his dead children, grief stricken and trying to raise his one child by birth of the floor. His shaking hands barely managed to pick Damian up and cradle him to his chest, tears streaming down his face as he rocked back and forth.

"My son… My son…"

"Bruce…" Dick couldn't breathe. Seeing all of them… like this… Bruce was devastated, shattered.

Head bowed, the man barely managed to speak. "I swore I'd protect them. Promised their fathers… their mothers… How could you… Dick how could you do this to them…"

"I didn't… Bruce I'm…"

"Get out of my sight." His head stayed down, not looking at him. It's said nothing is scarier than Bruce's bat-glare. That's a lie. Nothing was worse than when he won't even look at you.

Instantly he turned and ran, darkness eating away inside him. For a moment he was in a black wood, with scraping trees and bushes. Then in a desert with nothing but orange dunes around him. He stopped once, looking around for some kind of landmark. Where was he? Where was he going? He backed up for a moment, only to run into something. He jerked around and fell back into the sand, screaming.

Batman was hanging from a brightly colored noose on the one black tree in that desert, tattered, torn, and broken. Words hung in the air around him, over and over again.

You killed me.

You killed me.

You ended the Bat.

"Richard!"

Dick jerked awake, breathing hard and shaking in sweat. His eyes searched wildly, trying to find something, anything, that'd contradict his dream. His nightmare. Unfortunately the first thing he saw was the one eyed naked face of his captor, the source of his nightmare. His mask gone, he honestly looked worried about him. "Are you alright?"

He just stared in horror at him, realizing he was the one who woke him from that nightmare. This man was kneeling at his bedside, one hand on his exposed shoulder in order to shake him awake. His voice wasn't harsh or critical, calm or condescending. Just worried… like how Bruce and his parents were whenever he had nightmares in the past.

After a few minutes of just looking into Slade's revealed face, his breathing still erratic as visions from his dream and making the connections in his frantic brain, he jerked away from him, turning to his other side so he wouldn't see him anymore, and so that man wouldn't see him in such a vulnerable state. "I'm fine," he croaked out. He was anything but fine, but he wasn't going to give that man any satisfaction from seeing him like this. Weak.

The man said nothing for a long moment, just watching and listening as Dick focused on calming his breathing. He was sixteen for pity's sake! He ought to be able to calm himself down from a nightmare. He shouldn't be wishing Bruce would appear and take care of things. When was the last time he had come into his room at night and helped him through one? Not since he last screamed out. He always came then. His nightmares got really graphic, and really bad. Everything from his parents' deaths to poor choices appeared from his subconscious. But this one… it was like no other. He dreamed parts before, but never like this. Slade had dragged out the worst of it out like this.

He hugged his pillow, crying into it slightly as he tried to calm himself down. Bruce wasn't there to protect him or say the right words to calm him. Alfred wasn't there with warm milk and a listening ear to ease the load away from him. Jason wasn't there to laugh at his ridiculous fears, or Cass to listen and consider them. He couldn't get up and watch Tim or Damian sleep, taking comfort that they were alright. He was alone and had to deal with this alone. His fears, his anxiety, and his guilt.

Dick felt the extra weight on the spring bed as Slade sat near him. He didn't move or acknowledge him as he leaned over him a bit. Well he tried not to. On reflex he tensed up, wanting to get away from him. He nearly cringed when the man's hand came to his head. He was going to do something strange or bad, he knew it.

But to his surprise, all he felt was gentle strokes through his hair. Just his hair. The assassin who kidnapped him and threatened his siblings lives, was stroking his hair, smoothing it out and wiping away the sweat that gathered there during his horrible dream.

His mom used to do that.

The teen's heart ached as let himself cry into his pillow. He wasn't accepting the man's attempt to comfort him (he was pretty sure that was what he was doing), but he couldn't reject it either. It was like he was walking a tightrope, constantly. He both did and didn't want this. Maybe if he imagined it was Bruce or his mother or just someone else it would be alright. Even Selina or Uncle Clark would be good. Didn't Grandma Kent do this once? When he was taking a nap one summer? If it were anyone else, it would be okay. Anyone else…

Minutes passed and the boy relaxed back into slumber without realizing it. Slade stayed there, watching him settle down slowly and smoothing his hair rhythmically. He used to do this for his sons when they were little when they had bad dreams. Joey needed it more than Grant, but neither had such violent nightmares like his apprentice did.

The teenager didn't realize it, but nearly every night he had a bad dream and would start calling out. Often the words didn't make sense, but he had a general idea what the dreams were about. He read everything he could about Richard's life, from his parents' murders to his kidnapping/beating from Two-Face. He was on record for being attacked and kidnapped several more times by psychotics and mobsters, and there were rumors of attacks he thwarted on his own. This boy had a record at school for fighting at one point, and many more rumors of defending bullied students when the teachers weren't looking. Already he had seen death and destruction, the worst of humanity. He'd seen the lad's scars. Nightmares would be expected in a high stress environment.

Every night he would have nightmares. And every night Slade sat at his bedside, stroking his hair and covering him once again to remove the dreams. He calmed each time. This was the first time he had to wake the boy because of his screams.

Once content he would finish the night in peace, Wilson lifted himself off the bed and readjusted the blankets. Richard was holding onto that pillow quite tightly, making it impossible for him to move it into a better position. Moving around him, he knelt down to his other side to get a good look at his face. It was strange seeing a teenager looking so childlike and innocent as he slept, but he was exactly that. Tear streaks remained on his face and he still looked troubled by his dreams. Sighing, Slade laid a hand on his head, feeling his slight fever and smoothing his hair out again.

Instead of calming him, the boy turned his face further into his pillow, wincing slightly. A moan sounding like 'nooo…' escaped his lips but that was all. It struck a needle into the man's chest. Rejected. Completely rejected. And he wasn't trying to do anything but help.

* * *

A/N: I really need to work on humanizing Slade. I read a few good ones where he was really human, kind yet cruel, and I've tried to do the same. It's so easy to make him either evil or good(ish), but hard to get any in between. Anywho, the assassin is trying to use stockholm syndrome to get Dick to be obedient and loyal. Basically scare and isolate the victim, give them no hope, then present yourself as a hero or good guy to them. Sometimes the victims get attached to their captors and won't leave even when the opportunity presents itself. Will it work? You'll have to find out.

As for the nightmare, yeah that gets pretty graphic. My sister told me about how she survived our family dying in her dreams all the time so I modeled it off that. Someone else asked if Dick ever felt guilty about Bruce giving up Batman. Answer: all the time. Until they see a universe where Batman kept going and find out how screwed up their lives would have been, they keep trying to get him back in the cowl. But seriously, these kids get a great childhood because of that choice. Still made a young Dick think he killed off Batman though. Also loved a YJ comic quote where Nightwing lectured Arrowette's mom about every night him hearing the screams of those he didn't save, so I had a bit where with him hearing all those people who have or would die because of or around him Fun times!

Tomorrow... CATWOMAN!


	21. 21 – Cat Cam

Let's see what daddy's girlfriend's been doing shall we?

* * *

**21 – Cat Cam**

Three weeks. Nothing. Police and FBI were all but gone from the Wayne Manor and grounds. Two officers left their numbers with Bruce but that was all really left of government involvement with this case. No ransom, no proof of life. Agent Ferrel's idea of runaway was becoming common belief among many. The only ones who didn't believe it at all were those who knew Dick personally.

It was only when the feds left that Selina visited, and not through the front door. Bruce gave her a glare when she walked through his study window one evening. He was behind his desk, working through some papers Lucius sent him to protect his company from the fiasco's fallout. "Do you have to use that route?"

"Couldn't count on Alfred's kitchen entrance being safe." She gave him a sly look, sliding onto the corner of his desk. "It's likely someone's watching your place right now, and last I checked, the FBI didn't like me. Something about releasing their prisoners one night."

"Cats I hope."

"Most indefinitely." She looked over his papers, twisting her lips in thought as they made no sense to her. "Can't have my friends being used as guinea pigs. Anyway, about those things you called me to look out for," she straightened up, all business, "I got some details."

The man ignored his papers at last, giving her his undivided attention. Three weeks ago, the day after talking to Superman and getting those samples (which so far led nowhere), he called her for help. She was on the plane back from her vacation in an hour. Using both the League and her connections in the criminal community, he prayed to get a bite somewhere. The tech Jason found at that warehouse was deemed untraceable, homemade, by official reports. Bruce believed them to be prototypes of some newer tech company. Stolen tech. That is where Selina came in. "Oh?"

"Someone's been buying stolen tech," the woman started, taking out an old PDA with all her notes on it. Everything she had found so far on this case was on it. She passed it over to him, not caring if she got it back. "Top quality, untraceable kinds. Prototypes like that signal jammer and those holoscreens were among them. Word has it, the guy who bought the tech, also killed his fence. No one's saying who it is or they don't know. I'm guessing they're too scared to know."

Bruce scowled in thought at what this meant. "So the person who took him—"

"Someone big. Someone quiet." Selina looked away in frustration. "And doesn't run in my circles. He's not afraid to kill to get what he wants. Whoever it is, he's really good.

"What I can't understand is why take Dick and not call for a ransom?" She gave him a truly confused look, despite her concern for the boy. "I mean, there's no other reason to take him, is there?"

"None that I can see." He didn't like it. Who would? The whole thing was too suspicious. He fingered through the PDA, trying to settle his insides a bit.

"And the whole set up, far too complicated for just a kidnapping. Manipulating him to go there, using some lady, probably killing her, in order to get him to do what they want, then leaving everything he had on him behind, along with all that tech?" She shook her head, asking the questions plaguing his mind as well. "What are they really after? Why take him?"

"I've been wondering that myself." The man set aside the tech and passed over a printout of the mysterious text they found on Dick's ruined phone. "What can you make of his?"

She took a look and scowled, thinking. "A lot of gibberish. What kind of secret could you possibly have?"

"Besides dating a suspected felon?" Selina peered over the paper at him, raising a testing eyebrow. Bruce gave her a serious look. "Everyone has secrets Selina. Scandalous ones. I've managed to suppress the media in the past, keep the kids out of the limelight, but one wrong step and the peaceful life they know, we know, and it's over. Dick knew this, probably better than anyone."

"So he was trying to save you." She couldn't help but to smile a bit. "That's so like him. He planning on saving the world then? By getting captured?"

"Possibly." Frustration ate away at him. "If that text wasn't so garbled up we could have a solid lead."

"Or maybe nothing at all." She passed the paper back to him. "A text is useless unless you can figure out where it came from or what the context was. And wouldn't Mr. Amazing be using burn phones and cash?"

"Not just any burn phones," he began, getting out of his seat. The CEO picked up a tablet on the far corner of his desk and brought up a file showing her everything he knew about that particular part of the puzzle. She took it dubiously, her curiosity burning bright. "Previously confiscated ones supposedly in police custody in Star City."

"What?" Selina took the list and went over it with a cruel eye. "Dead phones? From Star?"

He grunted in the affirmative. "Apparently our kidnapper is a traveler. West coast, east coast, he may not even be American."

"Someone lifting old burn phones from Star PD would make some noise," she noted, scrolling through the random numbers. "I might be able to make some headway from this. How many times was he contacted?"

"About half a dozen times. Most of these numbers were rerouted through each other to confuse the search."

"Even though they led nowhere?"

"He's thorough." Frustration permeated from every line on his face. Whoever did this did not want to be traced. It was a struggle not to blow up or crumble into a mess at each dead end. "Not many people can manage this. He'd need training or access to an expert in communications."

"Sounds like your department." She passed him back the tablet. "I prefer the low-tech route. Now that reimbursement I talked to you about?"

"Doubled for you troubles." Bruce knew he was asking a lot of Catwoman, helping him like this. Technically she didn't have a reason to help him. He may even be putting her life at risk. But she saved Tim once, no questions asked. He could only pray she would help save Dick too. And to ensure her services, he'd pay her anything. He rewarded her handsomely for saving Tim after all. This task was anything but simple, so paying twice as much as she spent was well worth it.

She smirked, giving a satisfied nod. "I'll see what I can do once I get to Star."

"Stay for dinner?" Bruce insisted, coming towards the door. Selina scooted off her perch and near chased after him.

"You haven't had it yet?" It was nearly nine at night. That was rather late for dinner, especially with a toddler and elementary school kids around. School was starting back up soon, right?

The man looked away as they left the study. "None of us have much of an appetite lately."

"Hm. Interesting." She tilted her head to the side, contemplating his actions and words as she followed him out. Sounded like they needed a friend. All of them. "What's Alfred making?"

As the two of them walked through the halls to where the children were, Selina looked around and took in the changes in the manor since Dick's disappearance. The place seemed quiet, less lively. Almost like a hospital at night. Christmas decorations were still up, but ill cared for. Even the diligent butler couldn't find it in him to maintain the status quo they had before. Dust was starting to gather on the edges of their favorite portraits.

'_Dick, whatever that secret was you are trying to keep hidden is, it better be worth it._' She looked over to Bruce again, frowning at his solemn expression. Not a drop of playfulness anywhere on him. He was the same as the manor: quiet as a graveyard. And it would stay that way until his eldest returned.

"Selina!"

At the sound of her name she looked around, spotting Tim rushing over to her from the grand staircase. His black cat hoodie drooped on his shoulders as he flew towards her excitedly. Within seconds she felt his body slam into hers, wrapping a hug around her waist.

"Timmy! How are you hanging there kiddo?" She couldn't help but smile at the kid. Automatically her arms surrounded his head and shoulders on impact. Not exactly comfortable, but it got the job done.

The boy shook a bit before steeling himself to answer. "So-so. Did you hear about Dick?"

His hold loosened enough for the woman to kneel down and get on eye level with him. "Of course I have. Been out there looking for him the past few weeks. That's why I haven't been around here."

"I thought you were just avoiding the cops," the genius stated flatly, trying to act strong. She could tell the past few weeks had been hard on the kid. If Timmy wasn't talking about computers, books, or complaining about Damian, he was talking about all the things Dick did, with him or with others. The kid idolized his big brother.

Selina gave a soft chuckle. The kid was sharp as a tack. "Well that too."

"Any leads?" The kid bit his lip in anticipation. Just like his father he was desperate for anything related to Dick. Anything that would bring him home safely.

But again she had to admit the truth. Shaking her head, "Nothing that's panned out yet. Just a lot of stolen tech."

"What about the parts?" He started in a panic. "The kidnapper can't just scrape off the numbers or designs of the pieces making those things can he?"

"Still trying to find matches on the pieces," Bruce promised as he returned with a sleepy toddler leaning against his shoulder. Cass was just behind him holding onto a book. "But Selina's going to be checking out that phone lead we dragged out starting tomorrow. Upturning all possibilities from several different angles is a large part of detective work."

"Different angles eh?" Selina gave him a slight smirk as she came back to her feet. "Don't trust me to get the job done alone?"

"I just have a friend in Star who runs in different circles," he explained. "He has a ward a little older than Dick, so he sympathizes and agreed to keep an ear out. I doubt you two will cross paths. What is it?"

For the past few seconds the woman just stared at Cassandra in slight confusion. "Great Expectations…"

Bruce looked over to his daughter and the classic novel she'd been trying to read over the holidays. Most days she would have finished a book that size in a couple weeks, but she was having a hard time concentrating on it due to everything around her. It wasn't that unusual, but the woman's eyes nearly popped open at the sight of it. "What about it?"

"Eat Expect. Cass, where do you normally read?"

Everyone stared at her as if she was nuts; that was until Bruce took another look at the book and remembered the phrase. "Oh my… Jason!"

"What?" came the teenager's muffled yell from the kitchen area. They could hear him coming towards them but it would be a bit. In the meantime, the man directed the others.

"Cass, you're usually in the parlor, right?"

"Usually…" The confused girl looked between the two adults. Tim was just as lost as she was. "What's going—"

"I'll take a look around there first," Selina stated, striding forward the way the girl had come. "You take a look around the second level."

"If there aren't any," the man concluded, "we have to assume they're piggybacking off of our security feed."

"What's going on Dad?" Jason started as soon as he was in the room, very confused. "When did Selina get here?"

"Jason, put Damian to bed," he ordered quickly, nearly shoving the toddler into his arms. "Then get the others to eat dinner. I'll explain later."

"Say what?" His green eyes grew wide in confusion and terror. _He_ was in charge of his siblings? Now?! Cass and Tim were just as thrilled about it as he was, and twice as confused. Only a groggy Damian starting to fuss at being passed around seemed normal around them.

Just as the two adults started charging around the house, Bruce murmured, "We may have found a lead."

* * *

Half an hour later their father joined them in the kitchen, a very frustrated look on his face. Alfred was just cleaning up dishes while the children tried to find excuses to stay up (Tim was having a hard time keeping his eyes open this late). Selina was just behind him, picking up something black, shiny, and reminiscent of cheap magnets off of one of the doorframes. It was pointed straight at the small kitchen table they used on a regular basis. Both were carrying small bags filled with the same kind of device.

The man took one of those same things and tossed it on the table for the kids to see. Jason was the first to ask the obvious. "What's that?"

"A spy camera," Bruce stated plainly, glaring at the offensive device. "It's how whoever took Dick knew what was going on in here. So far we've found twenty spread out around the manor."

"My word!" Alfred just gaped at the thing, letting the dish he was working on drop back into the sink. "I can't believe I didn't notice them before!"

"They were cleverly hidden," Selina started, making the butler not feel so bad. "On fake plant stems, linings of frames, edges of door posts, even on the black parts of entertainment centers. You should check fans, light bulbs, between shelves, nooks and crannies in the morning when the light's better. These almost look Government Issue, but not FBI. I'm thinking China."

"Whoa…" Jason picked the thing up as the other two leaned in. This was a lot to take in. "Hold on a moment. You're saying the guy who took Dick put these around our house?!"

"Exactly."

"When?" "How did you figure it out?" The boy's voices overlapped each other. But Cass was the one who answered Tim's question, holding up her book.

"Great Expectations! My book! I was reading it when Dick was taken." She looked up to her father to see if she was right. "'Great' has 'eat' in it and 'expectations' starts with 'expect', one right after another! Just like in that last text Dick got."

"Second to last," Tim reminded her. "We just can't read the last one."

"So some ugly put cameras in the manor, discovered something to blackmail Dick, then to prove he can do it tells him you're reading that book?" The teenager's summary was close to what his father had theorized.

"Pretty much." Bruce took back the camera, glaring daggers at it before putting it with the others in the bag he was carrying. "I need to get these to one of my labs. It's likely there's a signal we can trace."

"Unless big bad is watching now and has cut the connection," Selina started, playing devil's advocate. He grunted in acknowledgement.

"Your job the next few days is to find every single camera we missed," their father informed the children. "Find them, destroy them. No exceptions."

"Like an Easter Egg hunt." The kids exchanged looks, nodding in acceptance. Their egg hunts became very involved very quickly. Now that they were on the hunt, they'd find all those cameras, and any bugs if they were around the house too, no problem to it. Their father saw the look on their faces and knew the rest of the manor's security would be in good hands, but at the end of next week, he was going to call Superman back in to do a multi-vision sweep.

"In the morning. The three of you are going to bed. You have school tomorrow." The man swiftly turned to Selina as he started on his next task. He had to use an alternate route to the cave to get on this because of her presence. "Selina, please consider staying the night to make sure they get their rest."

"Considered." She gave him a slight coy smile as she handed him her bag. She'd stay the night, then she was gone.

The kids exchanged looks again, this time unsure. After a moment of elbowing, Jason's voice stopped their dad. "Hey, um… Dad?"

"Hm?" He looked back to him for a moment, ready to go. But he stopped because of his son's hesitation. Jason was anxious about something, the cameras?

"With everything going on, wouldn't it be better if we… didn't go to school?" The teen gave him a pained, begging look. His father's narrowed slightly at the question, so he had to explain. "The press is still going with Ferral's runaway theory and the kids at school are going to… well you know, be real jerks. I was thinking you should just—"

"No." His firm voice matched his eyes. He understood where they were coming from but, "You have to go to school. All of you. Pulling you out now will only make things worse when we get Dick back."

"There's an old saying that's applicable here Master Jason," Alfred interrupted, drawing their attention to the stalwart old man. "One Churchill inspired England with in the War. Keep calm and carry on. Master Richard would want you to do just that in this instance. Each of you. He would be greatly saddened if you left school on his account."

Hearing the man's words, they had to agree. Dick wouldn't want them to be pulled out unless it was necessary, especially the younger two. They gave relenting sighs before nodding. This was just the way it had to be. That was all.

* * *

Slade thrust Dick against a hard wall, pinning him in anger with his forearm as he brought the iPad close to his face, showing him something. "Who is this?!"

The teenager barely got a look at it while struggling with the man's grip. "I don't know!" '_Selina,_' his mind whispered, though his face hid any knowledge of this woman.

"You're lying!" He let the video run for a moment, displaying her familiarity with the parlor. "She's one of Wayne's old girlfriends isn't she?!"

"I don't know! Maybe!" It was hard to breathe being pinned like this. Why was Slade so angry about her being there anyway?

"Slade," Wintergreen started, trying to calm his friend down, "I don't think anyone can answer under these conditions."

One thing Dick liked about this other, older man was how he could occasionally make Slade see reason. Occasionally. He didn't always interact with them, much less than Alfred did with his family. And he didn't have being a British butler as an excuse for being so cold. This time he had to, or the teenager really would have passed out before making any real answers. Deathstroke let go of him after a moment longer, letting him slide down the wall helplessly.

"Fine. Take a moment to think Apprentice. Who is this woman?"

He looked at Selina's picture again, trying to catch his breath, and put up his best confused look in existence, the one that got him out of trouble with the principal when he pulled a prank and there wasn't sufficient evidence to pin it on him. "Really, I don't know. I don't keep taps on all of Bruce's girlfriends. I hardly meet half of them."

"She's clearly been to your house." The man's one eye glared hard on him. "She found the cameras."

"Huh. Good for her." Dick glared away from him, trying to think of a good excuse/backstory for the lady. "Maybe she's from Bruce's days traveling abroad. He met a lot of people back then and keeps in contact with them. I didn't always live there with him you know. For all I know she's Interpol, or even Catwoman. Hear she's hot."

Slade continued to glare at him, not pleased with the answer. The boy could tell he was thinking he was lying (so he dropped a little truth to throw him off), but he kept talking anyway. He knew how to talk after all. Looking at him, he sealed the deal. "Seriously, I've never met half the girls Bruce has gone out with. The rest of them we categorize by hair color and number. We don't bother to learn their names if they don't last six months."

The man's eye narrowed for a moment, considering his words. Dick knew they made sense. He just prayed they sounded true enough to throw the man off Selina's trail and that his expressive face didn't give her away. Bruce needed Selina, if not as a comforter then as a resource. And Dick really didn't want to endanger her any more than he had already. Deathstroke could be vicious.

Finally the man turned away, seemingly accepting what he said. "You better not be lying boy."

"They were going to find your cameras eventually," the teen jibed back, forcing himself back to his sore feet. Every part of him was either bruised or sore in one way or another. Scabs and new scars covered his hands, knees and even his elbows from all the training he was forced into. A newer cut on his chin started to bleed again and the one hidden in his unruly hair itched like crazy behind him. But despite all of that, he kept the sass up. "Alfred's really good at cleaning and you should see our Easter Egg hunts. Bruce hid them in really weird locations. One day Damian would have spotted one on accident and your whole scheme would be found out."

Slade gave him a cold stare, studying his features quietly for a moment. "I think you need a bath, Apprentice."

Dick's eyes widened in terror. It was the middle of the night! "No… No! I had one—"

"Get outside and strip." He brought out the trigger, waving it just next to his eye as encouragement. As more dread and terror filled the teenager, he walked forward to the yard outside the bunker they were using at the moment, flinching the entire way. He had to do as he was told.

Behind him he could hear the man giving Wintergreen new orders. "Prepare for our departure. We leave in two hours. No point in leaving a trail for Wayne's people to find."

"Very well. Street clothes?"

"Naturally. Pity they had to find those cameras. They were more for his benefit than mine. Thanks to that woman," Dick cringed inside as he heard the rest, halfway undressed already, "he will never see his family again."

* * *

A/N: I ship batcat, a lot. In DNB, it took a while for Dick to accept her, but he did. Selina's awesome here, but mostly because she's somewhere between Mom and a professional at that moment. She's not that close to Dick to be incapacitated by his disappearance, and she has a lot more leeway, but she worries in her own way for everyone. Plus Slade knows nothing about her (been MIA from the place for months) so she's a wildcard in his mind, a possible threat. There's a great deal he doesn't know.

So they're closing in, a little. The investigation's going to take a long time so enjoy the drama. Some real cases take this long to be solved and aren't as fast as the ones on TV. I thought the cameras were cool. And I kinda like the option of Bruce taking the kids out of school until things blow over. Unfortunately, 'Keep calm and Carry on' is going to go on for quite some time. Oh well. Dunno if Churchill was the one who said it, but it is a popular british phrase. Laters.


	22. 22 – The New Normal

Back to life, back to reality... XD

* * *

**22 – The New Normal**

Bruce practically crumbled on his bed near midnight, hating himself and grieving at the loss facing him once more. Their one lead, those cameras, blew to pieces five minutes after he entered the cave from the outside route. As soon as he tried to trace the signal the cameras were sending their intel to, they self-destructed. He could hear pops and surprised yelps above him seconds after, telling him all the ones they missed also were no more. Not one survived.

How stupid he was! Careless and stupid! He should have dissected one of them first, make sure there weren't any explosives! Maybe then he'd be able to at least use one for part identification. His one solid lead to finding out what happened to his son fell through his fingers like water. Now… now he had nothing.

Selina tried to sooth his shaking and tears, not needing to hear what happened to know something went wrong. Three weeks of nothing, then this, one hope, and… Devastated didn't even begin to cover it. Nothing she could truly offer him would be a comfort this time around. "We'll find him. Really Bruce, we'll find him."

"I…" A broken voice escaped his lips. Weeks of restless nights, scraping for clues, having hope taken away within an hour of finding it, all of it was taking a severe toll on him. A fear deep within him peeked out of hiding, taking advantage of how much this hurt him. "I don't even know if he's alive."

"Don't talk like that." It was something that crossed everyone's mind at one point or another. There were three possibilities really. Dick was either kidnapped beyond hope of escape, ran away from home, or dead. The effort put forward by the mysterious third party indicated forethought and planning. Dick was useless dead, but no proof of life or any kind of demand gave them little to hope for. "He's alive, and we will find him."

Somehow.

* * *

Icy water splashed all over him, startling Dick from an uncomfortable sleep in the back of a U-Haul. Sputtering and shivering, he tried to turn around and face his attacker only to find his arms and legs shackled together, behind his back. Slade loomed over him with his bucket, growling slightly. "Get up Apprentice."

"Wha... What?" Wildly he looked around, trying to get into a sitting position. "What did you-"

"You unlocked my trunk's three pin lock in sixty-four seconds while ill." A dark knowing smirk crossed the man's lips. "I assume you can handle simple handcuffs."

The teen glared daggers at the man. "I don't have anything to pick it with!"

"Don't you?" A knowing look in the creep's eye unnerved him more than anything. Just how much was he watching him? How he wanted to get rid of that smirk on his face. "Get out of those cuffs in five minutes if you want to eat. Fail to do so, and you'll be at a severe disadvantage in our fight."

Glaring hate at the assassin, Dick watched him walk back to where a chair was set up and sat down, waiting for him. Grudgingly, he slipped the wire he picked up earlier from his long, soaked sleeves and blindly started maneuvering it into the cuffs' lock. From the feel of it, the shackle was only a two pin lock. Took him only a few seconds to undo the latch, shifting his shoulder at the end to release some soreness before moving on to the next lock. Within two minutes his hands were free and he was working on the locks on his ankles. Able to see them, it only took him a minute more to be completely free and on his feet, slipping the wire back to where it came from.

His captor was grinning, highly satisfied. "Well done. Tell me, where did you acquire such a valuable skill?"

Taking a deep breath, he told him the truth. "I learned a little from Michael in Haly Circus. He's an escape artist and I was curious. Bruce had me working on it after my first kidnapping so I could escape easier. Saved my life a few times."

"I see." A note of approval in Slade's voice was not something he wanted, but gained anyway. Dick tucked his hands into his armpits, trying to warm them after such a rude awakening. He was seriously starting to hate water. "It may yet save your life again."

'_Don't tell me he's gonna be locking me up like that every night now,_' he mentally begged, praying this would not become a regular occurrence. Just what he needed. More sadism. He was just waiting for the day Slade revealed his pedophilia and attacked him that way. Being chained up at the same time would be just wonderful.

Clapping his knees, Wilson got to his feet, making plans no doubt. "I was planning on holding off on certain skills until you were better adapted, but I see there's no need to wait. Keep that wire. You never know when you'll need it.

"Now," a grin started on his face, "it's time to earn your meal. Fight me."

Glaring at the man, he looked for the trigger and couldn't find it. Scowling that he couldn't find even a hint of it, Dick just slid into a fighting stance and focused on keeping his balance in the moving vehicle and not getting the stuffing knocked out of him. Sparing before breakfast was pretty standard for them. This was his new normal, and he hated every minute of it.

* * *

Jason couldn't stand it. Whispers followed him everywhere. He couldn't go down the hallway at school without hearing someone point to him and start talking to another about what had happened over break. Being Bruce Wayne's adoptive son from the streets was one rumor mill he got over years ago. Being the famous Dick Grayson's younger brother in Gotham Academy was something he mostly could live with -sometimes it protected him from wackos on campus. But now that the common consensus was that Dick had run away, all the eyes laying on him were rude and condescending.

He was a freak show again.

Worst part was he couldn't disappear in a crowd of students. That irritating white lock in his hair made him too easy to spot. All anyone had to say was "look for skunk-head punk" and they could ID him as the brother of the "runaway circus freak". Man his life sucked.

Three days into the new term and already he'd been bombarded with questions he couldn't answer. Taunted in gym class. Asked when he was going to join his big brother and finally take his place back where he belonged. Some people even asked how much it would take for him to leave, for good.

The thirteen year old didn't even look up to see who leaned against the locker next to his as he cracked it open. Just went about getting his next book for class. "Hey, you're Jason Wayne right?"

Jason ignored him, slammed his locker shut, and walked away. The latest antagonizer didn't seem to like that. "Wait, Jason, hold up!"

He continued to ignore the older kid, pushing past people in the halls just to escape the guy. Normally that'd be easy, if he didn't have a place he had to be. This guy had to know his route. "Dang it kid! Just hold still a minute!"

A hand grabbed his shoulder, calling a reflex from the former street rat that shook every person who was nearby to the core. Within seconds, the much larger teen's face was slammed against the lockers, his arm twisted and locked behind his back painfully. A growl left Jason's throat as he made his stance clear to the guy tailing him. "Let me make this clear. I don't like being followed, I don't like being touched, and I don't like being asked stupid questions when the answer is the same thing. Go. To. Hell. I'm not Dick's secretary. I am not your toy. And I'm not going to just let you drag his name-"

"I'm one of Dick's friends you idiot!"

"-through the..." He stopped, confusing taking over for a moment. "What?"

The teen glared best he could over his shoulder at him, his face starting to bruise. "Name's Travis. Maybe you've heard of me?"

"Murdock?" Getting a nod, Jason loosened his hold on the guy and let him get away from the lockers. "What are you doing?"

"Currently being threatened by an overactive eighth grader. Mind letting go?" The kid blinked and finally let go, apologizing. The crowd around them started to move along as Travis rubbed his wrist. "Thanks. Wow that's quite a grip you've-"

"Come on, let's move." Realizing they were the center of a lot of people's attention, including an approaching hall monitor, Jason pushed him further down the hall and around a corner. Last thing he needed was to get in trouble with this principal. His dad was likely to explode at the next guy who attacked them, and they did not need any more bad press coverage. Once out of sight of interested parties, he turned to the guy, questions alight in his eyes. "What do you want?"

"To know where you and Dick learned that trick." The senior rotated his shoulder, looking over the teen in front of him. "Seriously, he did that when someone was bullying me back when we first met. Are you two secretly ninjas?"

Jason rolled his eyes and shook his head, exasperated. "Kinda a trained response. Take a self-defense course. What do you really want? I've got Math to get to."

"I just wanted to know if you heard anything. About Dick." There was real concern in the lanky African American's eyes. It almost made the teen's response worse. "Is he really missing?"

"Yeah, he's missing," he confirmed. "That's all we really know. And no, he didn't run away."

"I wasn't asking that." Travis finally let go of his wrist, giving him a critical eye. "I know Dick wouldn't run. We had plans for this term, all the way through prom. It's going to be epic... or was..."

Both of them looked away for a moment, knowing about all the plans Dick had and what would likely not be happening for quite some time. Would Dick even be allowed to go to prom? He might end up repeating the year... if he ever came back.

"Yeah well," Jason shifted his stuff around, looking at the ground, "he's not around right now and whoever has him isn't interested in money. The Feds got nothing, and other than putting him on milk cartons, there's little they can do without more leads. Their trail was cold to begin with."

"How's everyone taking it?" He shifted as he fumbled for the right words. "I mean, Barbara's been distant every time we try to talk to her about it, and I know he and your dad were fighting but you guys were-"

"What does it matter?" He snapped a glare at the intruder, not caring so much that he was his brother's friend. "Dick's gone and no one's happy. Everyone's either depressed or on high alert, end of story. I gotta go."

"Whoa one second." Travis stopped him from leaving for a moment longer. He still had one thing to say. "I'm not attacking you guys. I want to help."

"Then find Dick," the boy snapped, trying to control himself. Everything these days was about him controlling himself. He had to be the strong big brother now, the responsible older son. Dad was breaking down, Tim was scared and worried outside the Manor, and Cass was twitching while she watched everyone. Damian had bouts of crying for no real reason, and Alfred was missing things, small things. And there was nothing he could really do to help, except by taking Dick's place. He could never hope to replace him. Didn't even want to try. "Find him and make everything right again."

With that Jason took off for class, eyes on the ground and using his peripherals to guide him. He didn't want to think about all the responsibilities he had in his older brother's absence, and he didn't want to think about how wrong everything was. All he wanted to do was get through that day and pray the next one was better.

It couldn't have been more than thirty seconds later when Travis caught up to him, pulling him back for a moment. "Just a sec."

"What?!" Annoyance took control of his features as he snapped at the senior. Couldn't he just leave him alone?

A knowing smile came to the older boy's face. "Meet me next to the old oak on the south side at lunch okay? I've got an idea."

Surprised and curious, Jason just nodded and hurried on his way. If he wanted lunch he had to make it to class on time. Whatever Dick's friend wanted to say could wait until then.

* * *

A/N: So yeah, that's life for them now. Bruce is stretched too thin with his worries and responsibilities, breaking in his own special way. Dick is getting into the rhythm of his imprisonment, though he's still on his toes for half of it. And Jason is trying to cope while everything else seems to be falling apart. He's really going to grow up in this, almost as much as Dick is. Not really much else to say about this chapie. Laters


	23. 23 – Signs and Gasoline

Something that's been missing will soon be provided.

* * *

**23 – Signs and Gasoline**

They were on the road for a week (maybe?), not stopping except for gas and restocking on some supplies. They were still using a U-Haul truck as a cover. Slade would train Dick in the back of it most of the day and sometimes into the night. Only when they were about five miles outside of a town they needed to get gas in did Dick ever get to sit in front with Wintergreen and his 'master'.

Due to the severity of his twisted wrist during their last session, the teen was allowed one day's rest and sitting in the cabby's backseat. Better than sleeping in back, but not by much. At first Slade was going to have him read some tactics documents to fill in the time, but the dizzy spell that came with reading in the vehicle put an end to that. Dick hadn't had severe motion sickness like that in years, but this one time he appreciated it. Instead he was dully fiddling with locks. It was a boring exercise hardly requiring his attention now. Selina would be proud. Now if only he could pick pockets.

"We'll have to pick up some Dramamine in the next town," the man muttered bitterly. He glared his one eye mildly at him through the mirror. "How long have you had this condition?"

"Inherited it from my mom," the teen answered, looking out the window to clear his mind. The sunglasses he was wearing (something they picked up for him in the last town) covered his black eye nicely. He hadn't dodged Slade's fist fast enough earlier, landed bad on his hand, and now was in the cramped back seat. His civies were welcomed in compare to the uniform he was forced into before. Warmer too, hoodie over long sleeve shirts, gloves, scarf, boots, thick pants and a ski cap can do that for a person. "Honestly I've never tried reading in a car after leaving the circus."

"Hm."

Dick glared at him through his glasses for a moment before looking back out the window, setting the lock he just finished aside. He hated how small things Slade did, like grunts or 'hm's, reminded him of Bruce. The guy didn't fight like him and was a bit smaller, but there were several similar character traits they both had and it unnerved him. He was afraid one day the guy would do something Bruce would and he'd unconsciously call him 'Bruce'. He never wanted to do that. They were nothing alike at the core of things, and he had to make sure he remembered that.

Looking back out the window, he let his mind rest a little. He was so tired of always being on guard, always being tested. If this man was going to try something to manipulate him further, then he had to be ready to fight it. Occasionally Slade tried to act fatherly around him, comforting him on occasion when he had a nightmare (quite frequent lately) or helping tend his wounds. Dick tried to reject him when he could but was becoming harder each day. He hated him, maybe as much as he hated Zucco or Two-Face. He shouldn't be finding any comfort in this man, at all. It was better to just look out the window and hate him. This had to be the beginning of Stockholm syndrome and that was the last thing he needed.

Something caught his eye, making him blink in surprise. He adjusted his seating to lean his chin on his good hand, and have it cover his mouth as he looked out the window. He didn't just see… All around them was farmland. Snow covered farmland. But was it…

A sign came into view and it took all of his self-control not physically acknowledge it on instinct. He hid his smile, his hope, best he could. He peeked at the gas gage and felt the hope inside him grow with each passing second. They were going to stop. They had to stop.

'_Okay, slow down Dick,_' he mentally chided, controlling his breathing best he could without giving anything away. Slade had good ears. '_Slow down. You've got to think this through._' His eyes worked back and forth behind his shades, very very glad he was wearing them. If he was going to get anything right, he was going to have to be careful, and the best actor in the world.

Before he even formed a complete plan, they were pulling into the gas station. Slade gave him a shrewd look. "Remember, John Willis," he emphasized slowly, "we're moving from Missouri to Oklahoma. Your mother, my wife, died of leukemia. My name is Grant and your uncle is Mark."

"What was my mom's name?" he asked with a little sarcasm. It proved he was paying attention and would play along at the least. His captor couldn't punish him for that.

"Mary of course." Dick scowled. John and Mary. Had to bring up his real parents. At least they were common names. The man gave him one more warning look. "No funny business while we're in there. It'd be a shame to blow this nice place to pieces."

"Blowing up Hicksville." The teen rolled his eyes. "Yeah, that's not suspicious."

He looked around, stretching a bit as he put his snow coat over the rest of his gear. Not a lot of snow really, so no pump boy to help out visitors. Well, even if there were one, Wintergreen would be handling the pump. This was one of the old fashioned stations where you couldn't use cards at the pump so they had to go inside.

"Welcome!" The person at the counter started, putting up his best fake face. Dick rolled his eyes at the jerkwad, very glad his glasses hid his eyes. "What can I help you with?"

Slade gave him a smile as he pulled down his scarf, some sunglasses covering his eye and patch and a ski cap hiding his hair. Not a bad disguise. "Just passing through. Sixty on pump three? And a few other things in a minute."

"Of course!"

"Mind watching him for a minute while we hit the head?" He first pointed to Dick then to himself and Wintergreen, who already was headed to the bathroom. The teen was checking out the tourist displays for the moment, seemingly bored. Since this was a normal gas station, two stalls were expected to each gender exclusive room. Age before beauty, and just where was Dick going to go?

"Go ahead." The man's fake smile became more genuine at the navy term, making the teen scoff as he played with the key chains with names and corn on them. Slade passed him, probably eyeing what he was doing behind those shades. Dick actually looked over his with a 'what? Think I can call for help like this?' look. Satisfied, he went into the back where the bathroom was.

Quickly he jammed the names he collected right under a familiar name. Clue one, if anyone bothered to look for it. Faking casualness, he made his way over to the marker display and started drawing on the test page. After a minute he smirked sadly to himself, ripped off the paper, folded it up, and slipped it in a crack in the gondola holding the display up. Wasn't a real message and he doubted it'd get anywhere, but it wouldn't put the guy behind the counter in trouble. He then proceeded to write another note for later, making it as colorful as possible.

"Enjoying yourself?"

Dick nearly jumped out of his skin when Slade's voice appeared in his ear. He looked over his shoulder to the guy and glared a little. "As much as I can."

"Hm…" The assassin looked over the page he was doodling on and couldn't help but to smirk. 'YOU SUCK!' screamed at him in the most colorful display known to man. Complete with swirls, fireworks, and even a Superman crest with a bat underneath it. The boy was a fair artist. "Really. You could have figured out something else to write."

"For who?" He capped the pen and started towards the bathroom. "It's Hicksville."

"Hm." Slade let him pass him to the toilets without another word. He had other business to attend to.

Once in his private stall, he immediately got to work. Before playing with the pens and markers, he palmed one of them up his sleeve. Quickly he took off the cap and wrote on one side of the stall.

**HELP! I'VE BEEN KIDNAPPED BY AN ASSASSIN AND HAVE TO DO EVERYTHING HE SAYS OR ELSE! CONTACT RAY PALMER AND TELL HIM TO CHECK ON THE LEAGUE'S FIRST FAMILY! THE KIDS ARE IN DANGER! DO NOT ERASE!**

'_Please,_' he pleaded in his heart, '_last long enough for him to see it!_' A pit grew in his stomach as he used the toilet as quickly as he could. He knew deep down this was a long shot. Slade probably predicted he'd try something like this. Marker wasn't too hard to get off bathroom stalls really. He was going to need another backup plan. He looked forward at the stall door, grim determination settling in.

A couple minutes later he came back towards the counter, his palmed marker already misplaced on another display while Slade finished his shopping there. He was even talking friendly like with the man behind the counter. "You know how teenagers are. All doom and gloom."

"Don't I know it." Dick gave both of them a sour glare behind his shades. They were talking about him the whole time. Did he notice the palmed marker after all? "I'll take care of his little 'note' later tonight."

Apparently. His captor smiled graciously as he took up his bags. "Much appreciated. John? Ready to go?"

"Can I get a Snickers first?" Hey, teenagers ate candy too didn't they?

"Ah, no." There was a slight edge to his voice, one that made the acrobat's insides twist. "Defacing private property has removed that right for a while."

Dick rolled his eyes, groaning a bit. Yep, caught. As the two of them left the station, the truck refilled, Slade murmured in his ear. "You're lucky he's a reasonable man. He's not about to believe any crazy tale you put on those stalls."

"It's not crazy if it's true."

He had to smirk at that one. "What did you write?"

The teen clenched his teeth for a moment as he stopped just short of the truck. "Help? I've been kidnapped by an assassin and I have to do everything he says or else? He's threatening Bruce Wayne's kids' lives in Gotham with nanoscopic probes? Do not erase?" He rolled his eyes, shaking his head at the ridiculous sound it made coming from his mouth. Yeah, it really did sound crazy. "Do you really think I'd write that? No one would believe me."

"You thought of it though." There was a slight edge to his voice.

"I've thought about it in every town we've passed through," he admitted grimly. He really had wanted to leave a message at every point they stopped and let him out, but always hesitated and stopped before putting something down. "But I don't want anyone to get hurt. I put a bat on the side and wrote 'call him'."

This made the man smirk. "A bat. You've been drawing bats."

Dick shifted, uncomfortable. "Just twice."

"You draw bats on the ground whenever you think I'm not looking," Slade stated flatly. He shook his head. "Why bats?"

This actually made the teen smirk. "Ever heard of Batman?"

"Tank is ready." Wintergreen joined them, looking at the bag they had purchased. "Dramamine?"

The interruption ended the interrogation, putting everyone back into the vehicle and leaving the small town far behind them at long last. Dick watched it disappear behind him through the mirrors longingly. Silently he prayed his real message, the right message, would be received and from there would spring a light at the end of the tunnel. This had to work.

* * *

A/N: Three guesses on where they stopped at. Clearly Dick's been there before, knew the guy at the counter, and knew what he was doing, but that's all the hints you're getting there. Motion sickness is hereditary, I got it from my dad. It only got bad later when I read things in the car. So Dick's isn't very strong, just a great excuse for not reading on the road. I really wanted to have more bats in the story, but I didn't manage it. Drawn bats that is.

This chapter used to be a lot longer, but I split it and put another in between them because it flowed better and added to the mystery. Glad you're all liking it. Until next time! ^^V


	24. 24 – Strength in Names

What's in a name? Quite a bit, depending on who says it, what it means, and how you respond.

* * *

**24 – Strength in Names**

Dick was in the back of another semi, doing pull ups attached to the roof at Slade's command, when he could feel the vehicle pull to a stop. A short wave radio perked up in his captor's hand and he strained his ears to hear what Wintergreen had to say. They refueled about an hour ago, or something like that. It was getting harder to distinguish time when he spent most of his time in the dark back of a semi-truck and his regular schedule was ripped to shreds. Time, location, both were growing mysteries to him.

"_Only a minor delay with the border patrol. Shouldn't take long._"

'_Border patrol?_' The teen was glad his back was turned to his master while he exercised. He didn't think he could control his features at the same time as doing these exhausting pull ups (his legs had to be stiffly forward the whole time, and he'd been doing them since the station). '_We're going to Mexico?_'

"Keep them out of the back," Slade ordered, seemingly bored.

"_Shouldn't be a problem._"

The man walked around the container, inspecting his form as he worked. "Good form. Your muscles and endurance have improved apprentice. Your legs used to droop after ten minutes."

'_Not like I've had much choice,_' he mentally chided. His muscles were burning, begging to be released. He'd always been fit, but all the exercises and sparring sessions was turning him into a thing of pure muscle. At least Slade fed him or he would have lost a sever amount of weight. The repetitive motion was boring and annoying to tell the truth. He was used to doing flips and tricks when up that high and in that position. This went against every instinct he had, especially the one to drop down and rest for a good year or two.

"After we start moving again, come down and start your pushups. There's a new technique I want you to apply."

'_Take your time Wintergreen!_' Dick did not want to learn a new way to push himself off the moving metal below him. Fists, one handed, he really didn't want to think of what would be next.

Slade continued to walk around him, observing him further. "You know," he started thoughtfully, "'Apprentice' is hardly an appropriate name to present you by. You need a proper name to use in the field."

"Not planning on making me use my real name everywhere?" the acrobat grunted, not really happy with it. Well, hearing he was allowed a secret identity helped a little. If no one connected him to Bruce when he did crimes in the future, it'd save him from any trouble with the press or police.

When he did crimes… He really was starting to lose hope of escaping his man.

"It's not professional," his master admitted. "And really, 'Richard Grayson' doesn't strike fear into the hearts of men. I've thought of a few names. Have you?"

"Kidnapped? MIA? Hostage? No Thank You?" Sarcasm dripped from the teen's lips.

"Really Apprentice, you need to learn to accept your new place in life." Slade smirked a bit, stroking his goatee. "I was thinking Strife, Rebel, Renegade, Ravenger, Scorn."

"Lots of 'R's and 'S's there." The truck started moving again, making him groan internally. Quickly he performed a backflip, releasing the handholds at the top of the container and somersaulting to the metal floor below. His captor seemed impressed when he landed easily in the shifting metal. "Okay, what's next?"

* * *

Six weeks. Bruce was at Wayne Enterprises, working on reports from different parts of his company. Lucius Fox had done everything he could possibly do in his position, even taken on many points normally taken by him, but there were some things only the owner of the company could do, regardless of personal situations. Stocks had gone down after Dick's disappearance (he finally got the media to say that over running away) and if it weren't for his second in command, other companies would be eating them alive. Now he had to step up and seal a few deals to make everything work. He didn't do all of this for his sake, but for all those who worked for him. Dick wouldn't want people to lose their jobs because of him.

Tired and worn, he rubbed his eyes and set aside his pen. Not for the first time he thought about talking to an eye doctor, but more than likely five minutes with Leslie would confirm it was the stress and lack of sleep making his eyes hurt and his vision blurry. His sleepless nights, often consumed with either nightmares, thoughts, or leaving his bed to check on the others or work in the cave, wore him down to near nothing. Only if one or more of his children snuck into his room could he sleep, a little. But even with the sleep deprivation and constant worry, the world would not wait for him. He had to return to work.

Nearly half the paperwork was done for the week and it was only Tuesday. Fox really did his best to lighten Bruce's load right then. Being a father too, he could imagine the anxiety Bruce felt and helped where he could. Really, the paperwork before him was only the necessities, and even then the man was struggling to pay attention. He had to keep reminding himself of what Alfred said a few weeks ago. Keep calm and carry on.

Not an easy task.

"_Mr. Wayne?_"

Bruce looked up at the intercom on his phone, surprised at the interruption. He looked over once to where Damian was napping by the couches then at the time. What would she want at one in the afternoon? He picked up his phone to talk to her softly. "Mrs. Dalton, please, you know it's—"

"_I really am sorry to interrupt Damian's nap time,_" the old woman on the other end started, "_but the elementary school just called. Apparently there was a fight and—_"

"The elementary school?" Cassandra and Tim? One of them was in a fight? "Are you sure you don't mean—"

"_It's Principal Hayne. And he said both of them were in the fight. I haven't heard from the secondary division yet._" He took in a deep breath and slowly released it, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Alright. I got the message. I'll be there in half an hour. Tim wasn't sent to the hospital was he?" He could only assume Tim was being bullied and Cass stepped in to defend him. She'd be fine, naturally a gifted fighter since birth and learned faster and better than Dick or he had. Tim though…

"_No, the hospital wasn't involved._" Mrs. Dalton gave a heavy sympathetic sigh. "_Do you want me to—_"

"No, I'll take Damian with me. Have Alfred bring the car around while I take care of him alright?"

"_Yes sir._" The line cut and he let go of the phone. He could already tell this was going to be a long day.

* * *

"You really shouldn't pick fights," Cass reminded her brother for probably the fifth time while they waited. Tim just glared at the ground, his headphones on under his black cat hoodie. Truth be told, with the extended antennae on either end of the large all surrounding headphones, he looked more like a bat than a cat at the moment. A very upset yet stone faced bat. "You never win them."

"They should have shut up then when I told them too," he murmured sourly.

"You know they were only saying things to get a rise out of you." Unlike Tim, Cass had no injuries, just a dirty uniform. The little genius had a black eye, a split lip, and several more bruises to his chest, back and forearms. If his sister hadn't intervened, he probably would have been sent to the hospital.

"I know…"

"They're a lot bigger and older than you too."

"I know…."

"Just because we're all in sixth grade doesn't mean you're automatically able to do everything they can."

"I KNOW!" He snapped a glare at her, surprising the girl greatly. She'd never seen his temper snap like this. He was usually the one who'd burst into yelling tears when he was upset. Glaring and ready to fight wasn't his normal course of action. "Dang it Cass! I know I was going to get the stuffing beaten out of me, but what else could I do?! They can't keep calling Dick those things! I just…" He looked away, shamefaced. "I just wanted them to stop."

"Stop what?" Both their heads jerked up when they heard their father coming towards them. Not wanting to disturb Damian's schedule any more than he already had, Alfred was with him in the car, napping. Bruce though did not look happy; not angry but certainly not pleased about being called down there. "What exactly happened that both of you were in a fight?"

"Uhm…" Tim looked down, trying to hide his face in his hood to not see his father's disapproval. Cass glanced over to the nurse's office not too far off where they could see some boys in their class being tended to. A few parents were in there as well, and the children there weren't horribly hurt. Their father noticed where she was looking and sighed slightly.

"I take it those were your opponents?" He gave them a once over, seeing they were given the light end of the stick compared to his son. Cass was just trying to break up the fight, not hurt them too badly. She always was good at keeping her cool in combat.

She nodded, taking a deep breath before reporting what happened. "We were at the playground after lunch and they were ganging up on Tim for some reason. I think…" The Asian girl cast an uneasy look at her brother, but since he didn't give her any sign to stop, she continued. "I think Tim tried punching one of them for saying something and they started ganging up on him. I just pulled them off of him and made sure they wouldn't be attacking again."

"I can see that. Tim," he gave the boy still hiding in his hood a shrewd look, "why did you start a fight? You knew you couldn't win."

The nine year old stayed silent. "Tim, answer me."

He shook his head vehemently, tightening his scraped fists on his knees. His father was not at all happy about this, and his voice showed it. "Timothy…"

Bruce was about to grab his shoulders and force him to look at him when he notice the boy was trembling. Startled at the sight, he stopped and reconsidered what was going on. Tim had been in a fight, had to be saved by his sister, and now his father was demanding answers. He wasn't used to combat or being beaten up, and it was probably humiliating among other things. Plus Tim didn't start fights. The last time he was part of something considered one, he was six.

Kneeling to eye level, he tried to push away his own frustration for being called down there in favor of concern for his son. It was much easier when he could finally see the tears growing in his eyes. Shame, frustration, fear, all of it appeared on his face, making his new battle scars more apparent. Bruce placed his hands on his son's. "Timmy, please, tell me what happened."

"They… they wouldn't shut up!" With those words the floodgates opened and everything came out in one go. "They kept saying Dick ran away because he was a bad boy who did bad things! They said he left because he hated all of us! They said he was a drug addict and that he was trailer trash and a good for nothing gypsy boy who finally realized what his place was! They said the only way we'd see him was in a gutter or behind bars! They said everyone was like that and that eventually Jason and Cass were going to run away too because they weren't worth anything either! They said we k… killed our p…parents! That… that they were d… dead be…because of us! That Dick had k…"

The boy couldn't say anymore. Consumed with shaking and tears, his voice wouldn't work right. Hearing all that, his father's heart throbbed painfully for his boy at the same time as rage filled him for what was said. They didn't know the boy's mother died in labor. But his concern overruled his rage as Tim dived into him, wrapping his arms around his neck desperately. "It… it's all lies right? Dick didn't… he wouldn't… he couldn't…"

"No Timmy," he murmured in his boy's ear. "He didn't leave us. He wouldn't. He was taken, and we're going to get him back."

"When?!" Tim demanded, jerking his face to look into his eyes. "When is Dick coming back?! When are they going to find him?!"

"Tim…"

"I want him back!" Fresh angry tears burst forth from his eyes. "I want my big brother back! Where did they take him?! Why isn't he here?! Bring him back!"

"Timothy!" His shout started the kid out of tirade. Bruce's eyes softened as he tried to explain to him. "We're doing the best we can. Everyone is looking for him, day and night, but no matter how much we all want him home now, life moves on without him. And we have to act accordingly."

"But—"

"He's not forgotten and we're not giving up. I swear Tim, we are going to find him, alive and well. But he'd be upset with us if we stopped our own lives just because of him." He butted the boys head softly, gaining his full attention. "Defending his honor and our family is good, but please, think first before throwing punches at people. You aren't big enough to handle half a dozen eleven year olds on your own yet."

Tim hung his head in shame a second later before nodding. He learned his lesson. Not ready to let go of his dad, he buried his face into the crook of the man's neck, holding onto him for dear life. Bruce looked over him to Cass, watching and waiting in her seat silently. Their eyes met and he knew she was burying the same feelings her brother had about what was said. She was just a lot better at controlling herself and her emotions due to her first six years.

He opened one arm up for her and she darted in, releasing her own anxiety on his opposite side. She would never directly reveal her uneasy feelings like everyone else. It was with both his children wrapped around his neck that one of the other parents talking to the principal found them. And with the heavy atmosphere around them, neither knew how to interrupt.

* * *

Jason couldn't help but whistle, impressed. "Wow. Tiny Timmy took on six brats? Dang!" He clapped his kid brother on the shoulder in the car. "Way to go Timbo! Maybe we should go for ice cream!"

"You should not be encouraging such behavior Master Jason," Alfred stated flatly, looking at them from the mirror. The butler was taking the children home after dropping their father back at the office to attend a few meetings and get more paperwork done. They wouldn't be seeing him until late that night, if at all. Damian was snuggly strapped in his car seat and technically it was Jason's job to make sure he was entertained. Bat-kitty did all the entertaining for him. "As it has suspended both of them for the next three days."

"But they're not grounded, right?" The teen grinned at the two of them, trying to lighten the mood to the best of his ability. Being the oldest there, it was his responsibility to try and keep everyone in good spirits. To help everyone get along, keep them happy and entertained, plus play mediator between them and Dad were his main jobs now. That's what Dick did. Defending them when he could too, but it was looking like Cass could take care of herself and then some. And now Tim was stepping up to the plate. "That's just plain amazing. I always get grounded."

"That's because your fights were over useless subjects and prove nothing other than your temper."

"And that I'm a better fighter." He grinned proudly, reminiscing with Alfred all the times he got in trouble for fighting at school in the past.

Cassandra and Timothy though did not share his elation at what transpired. Instead they were quietly thinking about how they'd be stuck at the manor with Alfred, likely cleaning with him and taking down Christmas decorations, until the following week. Their father hadn't grounded them on account of what the fight was over and saying he'd likely start a fight as well under those circumstances, but their butler wasn't about to let it slide so easily.

It wasn't being punished though that subdued them. It was the fact that nothing changed, even with all their tears and shouts. They really felt helpless, useless. The fight did nothing but suspend them for a next few days, leading into the weekend. That and prove Cass was still a much better fighter than Tim.

"Cass?"

"Hm?"

Her younger brother looked at her with a slight plea in his face. His voice stayed soft and low so only she could hear. "Teach me how to fight. I'm sick of being the weak one everyone has to save."

She looked up and down the boy for a moment. Did he really know what he was asking? "Tim, you're better than you think."

"Not good enough." He held on tightly to himself as he looked forward again. "I need to be stronger. Strong enough to protect myself and others. Strong like you and Dick and Dad and Jason. Maybe if I was stronger…"

He left it hanging but Cass could read him better than most. He was beginning to believe it was his weakness that made Dick go away. He was protecting them when he left, they all knew that. Damian was a toddler so there was nothing they could do about him, but Dick had taken down a crime lord by Tim's age. Cass could whoop Jason around when she was seven. Jason won against and taken down people much bigger than him several times around the same age. Tim was the only one who hadn't a prayer against an adult in a fight. He was weak and they all knew it.

"It's not your fault," his sister told him softly. "It's whoever took him's fault. You know that."

Tim's lips tightened for a minute, silently thinking. "Either way, I need to get stronger. Please teach me."

Cass studied him for a moment silently, thinking it over. They'd worked on building his muscles, coordination, tumbling and quick strikes so he could take hits, escape capture, or take advantage of situations when they were kidnapped. He was rather good at escapes. He had the necessary skills for getting out of tight scrapes, just none yet to test in combat situations. Reluctantly she sighed.

"Alright, but you can't complain or quit if it gets too hard. Obey every order and there shouldn't be any problems. Deal?"

A smile spread on the boy's face, confident and ready to start. It wasn't something she was used to seeing on his him, but was frequently there on both Dick and Jason's faces. Boys… "Deal."

* * *

A/N: Yes, you're allowed to feel. *waits for feels to pass by* done? Okay! So first off, Slade is trying to think of a name for Dick. Some are direct references to other characters so don't feel bad if you can't place them. One of them will be his code name later. Replacing Dick's identity is part of his conditioning. Furthermore, yes, they have left the US. I google mapped a location to make sure I picked a good one for the rest of his 'training'. Now I have never done a cross country trip so I don't know how long it would take for a U-Haul or Semi to go from Pennsylvania (that's where the first camp was) to the Texas/Mexican border. I have also never crossed the border so I have no idea what it's like going into Mexico. So later when they come back to the US (hey, this is a retelling. they have to end up somewhere back on US soil) the crossing will be much different.

That aside, I like to point out that when someone disappears, the world doesn't stop for their family. THey have to keep going, even if it's hard. For company owners, stocks can go down and businesses could be in jeopardy. Sometimes people are sympathetic to the family, sometimes bullies take advantage and make things worse for the survivors. I like the idea of the Wayne kids having an uphill battle for acceptance with the high class (they go to Gotham Academy and it has two divisions in my head) so they get bullied whenever there's an opening. Tim will only take so much before exploding, and since he's nine and more academic minded (yes, he skipped 2 grades), he's weaker physically. Also in this universe, his mother died in labor and he found his father's body when he was 3, giving him some emotional problems; sometimes he actually believes he killed his parents. Everything about this is hitting him really hard. This was pretty much his chapter. Cass gets her own too. Jason gets a lot more screen time than they do.

Well, monday you see the results of the previous chapter. Laters!


	25. 25 - Proof of Life

results of chapter 23

* * *

**25 - Proof of Life**

"Brr!" Jonathan Kent shook out his coat and boots as he entered the station's corner store. If they didn't need gas so badly, they would have driven to the one on the south side of town (much nicer people) but such as their luck would have, they were running on vapors. "Can't wait until the spring thaw arrives Martha, I really can't."

"If you had your way, we'd be in Arizona with all the other members of your poker club." Martha Kent grinned impishly at her husband, undoing her scarf as she started going to the counter. "I'll take care of this. Go ahead and take care of your business dear. You're still filling up the tank in a minute."

Her husband smirked and shook his head as he headed to the restroom for a bit. His miracle wife could handle Fredric a lot better than he could anyway. Stepping inside he could see the stall was recently cleaned, head to toe. Every scuffmark and doodle kids did was long gone. Well most of them were bad so he didn't mind really, but there was one large area that was nearly scrubbed down to where the paint was gone. He shook his head. Some days cleaning things wasn't worth it. A new coat of paint though was.

He sat down for a moment and started his business before looking at the stall door like always. Looking at it he blinked. Something was carved into the door, paint gone and even some of the metal. Fredric was definitely going to need a few coats of paint there. Thing was, the image was familiar. Quickly he took out his reading glasses and put them on. Looking at it again his jaw dropped.

"MARTHA!"

Hastily he put his pants back on, rushing out the room to his wife, calling again. "MARTHA!"

"What?" She looked over the man in confusion. "Please tell me you aren't having trouble again."

Quickly he grabbed his wife's hand and pulled her to the bathroom. "Get in here!"

"Jonathan!"

"Hey!" Fredric darted after them. "No women in the men's restroom!"

"Stow it Freddie. This is important!" Mr. Kent brought his wife into the stall he was using and showed her the door. "Look!"

Martha's jaw dropped in disbelief. "Oh my…"

"What are you two looking at?!" The man glared at them both, wanting them gone.

"How long has this been here?!" She demanded immediately. She pointed to the carving, making the grouchy clerk roll his eyes.

"That R? Some punk kid carved it in a week or two ago." The old couple exchanged frantic looks. "His old man told me he was having a hard time getting over his mother's death and he was telling everyone he was kidnapped. Writing it everywhere they went. And he did, right over there. Crazy story too. What's it got to do with anything?"

"He might actually have been kidnapped!" Martha barked back, severely angry at this man. Before them was Dick's seal, what he carved or drew on any of his projects he did at their place. A poorly carved sculpture had it on the base (a present he was making that he just couldn't get right). An R in a circle.

Jonathan took a picture of it and sent it straight to his son on his cellphone. "I'll call Clark over. He's been going crazy about this."

"You better remember everything about that customer Fredric Joel!" the old lady started, charging forward at the now panicking cashier. "Because if anything happens to that boy because of your carelessness, I swear I'll have your mother, your wife, and your sisters on your hide before you can blink!"

* * *

"Are you sure that's all you have?" Clark Kent, freshly arrived in Smallville about five minutes after receiving the call from his dad (claiming he was visiting over the weekend and was just around the corner earlier), looked around the shop at the same time as interrogating the man he remembered selling candy at his high school. Fredric went from slightly cocky ex-military store clerk to a shaky witness to something they'd been waiting for over a month.

"That's all! I swear!" The clerk cringed, devastated that he let something big slip through his fingers so easily. As if it wasn't bad enough he was kicked out of the navy. "Two men were with him, one claiming to be his dad. They all wore sunglasses and kept their hats on so I can't really give a good description."

"Bad with faces anyway," Pa recalled.

"I think they were military," he admitted. "Called the restroom the head."

"That's something," the reporter admitted, glaring and using his visions to see if anything was left behind for them to use. Any clue. "Would be better if your security camera wasn't fake."

"_Anything else?_" Bruce was on speakerphone, his voice exactly as when in Batman mode.

"Nothing. Sorry sir."

"What was that thing he wrote on the stall?" Ma demanded, remembering the scrubbing signs on the thing.

"Uh… 'Help' I think. 'Do not erase' too. I think I remember 'I've been kidnapped' and it had something about assassins and league and something about a family?" The man cringed. He really had a bad memory. One reason he was kicked out of the navy.

Clark jerked his head around in alarm. League? Assassins? Could that mean… "B. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"_Not their MO,_" the phone stated flatly, not noticing all the confused looks it was getting. "_Last I checked, they have no interest in him and they wouldn't stay in the states if they had. But may be worth looking into later. Knowing Dick though, he would have left another kind of message if he could. What exactly did he touch around there?_"

"Uh…" Fredric looked up trying to remember. "He… played with the key chains, moved a lot of them around."

"_Do you remember which ones?_"

He shook his head, cringing. "I fix them every day. Someone's always playing with the display and don't bother putting them on the right peg."

"Anywhere else?" Clark didn't think you could pass a message with those things anyway. Maybe prove he was there but that's about all. Kids liked to play around with them anyway.

"Uh… he was at the pen and marker display. That's where he got the sharpie I think." Immediately the Kents, all of them, went over to the display, hoping for some hidden message there. The clerk cringed again as he continued. "I rip off the used pages every night. I think that one day he made a pretty page saying 'you suck'."

"And he'd know that…" The older Kents looked at their son as he murmured, wondering what was going through his mind. Using his X-ray vision, he looked all around the display until he found was he was looking for: a perfectly folded five sided diamond piece of paper stuck between the panels of the gondola. It was one place the clerk wouldn't look. "Pa, help me slide this thing over. I think there's a note here, somewhere."

"Wai—"

"You got it son." Jonathan faked picking one end of the piece as Clark shoved the thing open, letting the paper (and a few other things crumbled up between the holes) fall to the floor. Instantly he went to his knees and picked it up, unfolding it quickly. Dick was a clever kid who occasionally made notes for him and folded them like this. It was their thing. He stared at the words inside before giving a defeated laugh. "What is it son?"

"It says, 'Happy Birthday Cass. Sorry I can't be there. Stay safe. Love, Dick'." He looked up and away, both relieved and disappointed with the message. It was Dick's handwriting, but couldn't he have left a clue as to where he was going or who took him? No, he used his one chance to wish his sister a happy birthday. Sweet, but not helpful.

"Maybe he didn't have time to tell us what's going on. Or this was a one in a million chance and he chose this in case he was caught." Martha's theories seemed viable, but neither helped lighten their moods. She looked at the other papers that had fallen. "Maybe there's another note here!"

She and her husband gathered up all the other pieces of paper that fell to the floor, encouraged by Bruce's voice. "_Bring everything. Including the door._"

"You can't just take my door!" Fredric was at wits end how. If circumstances were different they might have been sympathetic to the man, but it wasn't.

"_Mr. Joel,_" the phone started, very, very mad, "_you neglected to report a missing person's appearance, a possible kidnapping victim, two felons, and tampered with all evidence that could lead to the boy's retrieval. Taking a door and causing a small mess in your store is the least of your worries. Either you deal with this or you deal with the FBI, where you will be heavily fined at the least for interference in a case._"

Everything about that phone sent shivers down his body, the cold outside having nothing to do with it. Clark shoved the gondola back into place then came with his parents back to his phone to finish the conversation. "I'll bring everything I've found to your place as soon as I can. I don't see where any of this will lead—"

"_It's proof of life Kent,_" his friend stated, exhaustion and relief entering his voice at last. "_Dick's alive. He passed through town and saw a chance to tell us he was alive and thinking of us. And it's more than we've had in over a month._"

* * *

A/N: yes, they went through Smallville. Dick'll be kicking himself later for not coming up with a better plan, but he did try something. So the Kents found proof of life, and a witness that confirms how many are involved and that they plan on keeping Dick alive. It's not a lot, but it's enough.

As for the Kents, I tried to make them as much like an old married couple as possible. Hopefully did a good job. Someone told me I didn't do Kansas citizens justice, and I probably didn't, so let's just say this is how these individuals are. ^^; I'm gonna go shut up now.


	26. 26 - Not So Happy Trails

Apologies in advance to wild cat lovers. Honestly, I love them too.

* * *

**26 - Not So Happy Trails**

No more semis. That's what Wintergreen promised. At least not until they were back in the states. They hadn't directly said they were in Mexico, just figured it out from local clues and what he overheard occasionally. Could have been Texas again for all he knew. Apparently semis were a pretty good cover for traveling state and country borders. Now though, whenever they came across a town, village, or city, Dick was crammed into the hidden compartment under the jeep's back seat. The only advantage of this situation for the boy was being able to rest and see the sky over being trained constantly in the back of a moving vehicle.

The teen woke from one of his frequent naps while on the road when the jeep jerked up painfully. It'd be jerking upwards for hours, going through some hills and rough mountain roads for some reason. It was almost rhythmic for a while, but that sudden large bump pretty much slapped him into consciousness. He growled to himself. This past leg of travel was the most restful sleep he had since his abduction. And he had a feeling once they reached wherever they were headed in Mexico, he wasn't going to be getting any.

"Shame we ran out of Dramamine, isn't it Apprentice?" Slade had a knowing smile on his face, pleased with himself. Apparently Dick was doing a good job following some preset idea in his head. "You could be studying right now instead of napping. Then again, your body could use the time to recuperate."

'_Now you notice._' Over the past month or so (it was hard to decide if it's been two months or not. Felt longer), he had acquired quite a few new scars, scrapes, calluses, and other assortments of injuries. Most of them were from either rough exercises, poorly executed attacks, or even worse performed blocks while sparing. His eye had returned to normal not too long after Smallville and his wrist was fine once again. Other bruises faded and grew since, making him look different every day. But the dark circles under his eyes had nothing to do with training, neither were the wrinkles appearing at the corner of his eyes. Stress was.

Dick looked through his sunglasses at the glove compartment. He saw his captor put the trigger in there earlier, extra insurance. Slade never kept it on him physically while they were sparring anymore. He got close to grabbing it several times during their matches, getting closer each time. It was due to his improvement that the trigger was taken away from view. Wintergreen had it most of the time or it was somewhere else, hidden, so he couldn't grab it and run. The most obvious plan for escaping this nightmare was becoming near impossible for him to pull off. And now being in unfriendly territory without any identification, he couldn't run fast enough or far enough to guarantee his family's safety.

If only he had thought about it when they were in Smallville! He looked far away from the trigger's location and rethought what he should have done weeks ago. A note to Cass? An etching in the stall? Couldn't he have done more? Like grab the trigger and run for it? He knew the area and could probably find some safe shelter there. Maybe even call Uncle Clark! He should have done that, if he could get his hands on the trigger there.

But he didn't even know where the thing was at the time. It may have been with Slade or in the truck or with Wintergreen, but he hadn't seen it nor thought of it when he knew where they were. So he didn't do anything that would really help. Instead he thought of a way he could contact someone who wouldn't be destroyed or could be found by Slade without consequences.

A detailed note on what was going on could have gotten people hurt if he discovered it. Dick could always claim it was a token if that note to Cass was discovered by Slade, useless to anyone who found it, and he was guessing that day was her birthday anyway. It was a safe hint, with a very subtle second message in the artistry if anyone picked it up. He just prayed the Kents found it before what's his bucket at the counter did and threw it out.

He knew if the Kents saw his seal, they could find the note. They'd call up Uncle Clark and he'd search the place for more intel. Maybe one of his many visions could even see the message he left on the stall after it was washed off by the owner. Either way, his note would be found and then delivered to Bruce. He'd have a chance then, or at the very least assure his family he was alive. Slade never brought up any message he left behind since writing on the stall in Smallville. Looked like Dick won that round.

But he wasn't going to win the next one.

The jeep stopped, making the teen jerk forward momentarily in surprise. They were still in the middle of nowhere, possibly at the peak of a mountain. Green trees and rocks surrounded them, but none of them were the kind he'd see around Gotham. Even a different kind of green. There was nothing else around them but a road leading onward and more trees. Confusion ruled his features as he looked around wildly. Why were they stopping? He didn't see any camping gear in the back. They pretty much lived out of the jeep the past few days, and supplies were running low.

His captor turned around him his seat to answer his unsaid questions. "This is where you get off Apprentice."

"What?" Dick jolted his head around, nearly gaping at the man. Was he letting him go? Dragging him cross country with death threats hanging over his head, training him in moving vehicles into some miniature bodybuilder, playing with his emotions and mind all along the way, only to leave him stranded in the middle of nowhere? There was no way that was the case.

And indeed it wasn't. Slade smirked at him before showing him a handheld GPS. "Take this. I expect you at the programed coordinates before sundown. It's a half moon tonight but it won't be rising until several hours after. If you arrive tomorrow morning," a cold look entered his eye, "I'll be sorely disappointed."

The teenager looked at the device then at the man. "You want me to what?"

He sighed as if he were talking to an idiot. "To get out of the jeep and start heading towards our new home, on foot."

"But... there's probably cougars and wolves out there!" One thing Dick hadn't learned from Bruce or from anyone in the League or circus was wilderness survival. He was a city boy or one of a pack, a person who never traveled alone and never in the jungle like this before. Wait, was this a jungle or a forest? He couldn't tell. Either way, wild animals were everywhere and he had no guarantee he'd survive this training. "And snakes and lizards and bears and poison ivy and—"

"Quit being dramatic." The icy touch in his eye was enough to make his mouth freeze shut. "Most animals will shy away from you or give you warning if you're in their territory. Don't touch what you don't know and you'll avoid poisonous plants. Arrive at the compound before sunset and you won't have to worry about the truly vicious animals out there.

"You have a GPS and it's mostly downhill from here. You're a clever lad. Figure it out for yourself. Now get out and get started." Slade's ultimatum struck him for a moment before Dick took the device and hopped out of the vehicle. A smirk graced the man's face while he glared at him through his sunglasses. "Good. Sunset. Miss it and you miss dinner. Wintergreen."

A singular nod from the other man and the jeep took off, continuing down an old path halfway obscured by the foliage around them. Dick coughed from all the dust kicked up for a bit before looking back down the road. Simply following the road should yield the same results as trying to use the GPS to get to where ever he had to go, but then he remembered a sign earlier saying 'switchbacks' not too long ago. Weren't there switchbacks at that last camping trip/hike he took with his class? They took forever!

"Didn't even leave me a water bottle... Jerk." He looked back to the GPS which included a map screen and zoomed out to find a direction to go. Sighing heavily, he turned and started walking down hill, ignoring the road. It couldn't be that hard to navigate through these woods, not near as hard as finding his way through Gotham's backstreets in the dark, or finding the john during a camping trip.

* * *

Going largely downhill at night in a wild area he didn't know was one of the stupidest things he'd ever done. Twice he twisted his ankle and had to rest for a bit, and several times he took a detour to avoid a wild animal. Small ones like possums or foxes didn't bother him, but when he saw a cougar prowling near a den, Dick had no choice but to take another route. Other than the seasonal birds and smaller, wild cats, he really didn't see much of any of the wildlife he was scared of running into earlier.

Skinning his hands after trying to break his fall from tripping over a rock in the dark though was quite annoying. So were the stubbed toes, nearly twisting his ankle again, and oh yeah! Nearly going off a cliff. After realizing he couldn't see the much more than his body in the darkness and maybe the next tree or rock, Dick gave up trying. He already exceeded the time limit anyway.

Sighing heavily, he found his way up a large tree for safety and to get an idea where he was. Near the top, the acrobat looked around for any signs of light. All he could see was stars. It'd been a while since he saw them so clearly, not since last summer when they visited the Kents. For a few minutes he could pretend he was there again, on their farm. Sneaking out, climbing onto the roof of the house or barn, laying down and watching the starts... Even the occasional breeze made him nostalgic. Looking up he could see the Milky Way, Orion, Draco, Ursa Major and Minor, Cassiopeia, so many constellations. He'd never see them this clearly in Gotham, or half the places he performed at as a child. He could even see the comings of a comet off in the distance.

It was kinda beautiful. Looking at the night sky like this, even if for only a moment, it was peaceful and nice to see. He could even hear the hooting of owls and the chirping of crickets. Only one more thing would make him feel at home at this point.

Almost on cue, he heard them come flying towards him. Looking around at the screeching, a small smile came to his face as he spotted several bats of different sizes and colors flying through the air. This was prime feeding time for them after all, and this whole region was notorious for bats.

Clear starry skies, a cool breeze, being high above ground, the squeaking of bats, he could almost pretend he was home.

Carefully he curled up on the tree limbs up there, keeping his balance best he could while soaking up the atmosphere. Bats swarmed past him, reminding him of the ones back in the cave. He remembered chasing after them as a kid, and daring Jason to catch one. The street rat as so focused on grabbing one he nearly fell into one of the pits down there. Bruce locked down the cave for a couple years in retaliation, along with making both of them clean one of the manor's corridors, and each unused room down there.

He leaned his head in his arms, thinking about that time with a smile. To think the one bit of good that came out of Talia besides Damian was how Bruce opened up the cave again... then they put in railings to make sure no one fell into the abyss. He missed hearing the bats down there, even if one of the chores they had to do was cleaning up their guano. He missed the smell of the cave and the security it provided. He really missed the toys down there, and messing with all of Batman's stuff.

He missed Batman.

Dick's heart ached for home, for his family and friends most of all. He missed fighting with his brothers and sister. He missed bombarding them with hugs and stuffed animals when they weren't looking. He missed Alfred and his cooking and his sage words of wisdom. But most of all, he missed Bruce, and all the good and bad that came with him.

Keeping his eyes on the horizon, the young circus performer tried not to get completely consumed in his misery again as he waited for the moon to rise. A little light was all he needed to get to whatever camp Slade put up. Maybe he could even see where it was from up there. He waited what seemed like hours, tired and lost in his thoughts, for the thing to rise over the far off hills, but it was worth it.

As soon as it was up, he could see the outline of all the trees around him, and something that looked like a radio tower off in the distance. Looking at his GPS, he figured that was where he had to go. Couldn't be more than five miles away, if that. Why was it taking so long to get from where he started to the campsite?

Carefully he looked around again before climbing back down. Blinking, he gaped at the distance he traveled. From his vantage point, he could see the switchback road his captors took, and it was quite a distance, at least twenty miles away. If it took people an average of twenty minutes to walk a mile, then he could figure it'd take over ten hours to walk that far. Wait, would it?

The acrobat tried not to think too hard about math when he should be focusing on staying awake and getting to whatever hellish camp he was supposed to be at already. Nimbly he made his way back down the large tree to get back to work getting there. When he touched down on the ground, he felt a light weight on his back.

Looking over his shoulder, he smirked fondly. A small brown bat had attached itself to his clothes. Didn't look like the vampiric kind, but the little guy should be flying free, getting its tasty bugs and/or fruits. He put his fingers to his lips and made a few bat-like chirps, a trick he learned in the cave. The little guy's ears perked up, made a few squeaks, then flew off and away from him. Dick shook his head, smiling fondly at it as it rejoined its colony.

"Lucky devil." He looked back to the GPS unit and nodded, moving back onto his self-appointed trail. Hopefully he'd make it to the site before sunrise.

* * *

The moon was high overhead and his apprentice wasn't back yet. Slade looked at his GPS unit and checked the lad's location. He scowled at the screen. Richard veered off course a few hours ago, stopped for a time, then continued down the wrong path. Another thing Wayne neglected to teach the boy: how to read and follow a map. He should have taken the hint when the boy objected to this exercise. Wolves and cougars... At least he had an idea what could attack him in this area.

Rifle strapped to his back, the assassin dashed through the woods, checking his location several times to make sure he was going the right way. It only took him half an hour to reach where the signal was coming from, and instead of a boy lost in the woods, he found the device he was tracking. Picking it up, he smirked.

"Clever boy. Think you can get away do you?" He looked around for tracks and stopped. There were tracks, lots of them. An upturned rock and broken off dry branch, along with several crushed roots, told him his target wasn't trying to hide, but just run. From some predator if he read these tracks right. "Or maybe..."

Quickly the mercenary darted the way the tracks clearly went. A broken branch here, a shoe print there, a large paw print randomly appearing amidst leaves, it was a run for survival. And these tracks were fairly fresh. A blood smear on some leaves quickened his pace.

Soon he heard the frustrated yowling of a giant cat, forcing him to sprint forward, swinging his gun forward in his hands. Locking a bullet into place, he quickly made for the noise, ready to take it out. Within minutes he was able to see a cougar in the moonlight, leaping from being halfway up a tree back to the ground, eyes on its prey. Richard was leaping from tree branch to tree branch between trees, progressively getting higher with each leap. His tactic succeeded in eluding the carnivore below him, but the lad would be losing energy soon.

Quietly Slade watched as his apprentice flew through the air, spinning to another tree and looking down on the animal he was evading. Clearly he had some kind of plan, but he didn't know if it'd work on the beast. The cougar prowled beneath him, waiting for a moment when he'd stay put so it could climb up the tree and grab him. Both were looking for an opportunity. Above the scene, local bats swarmed just out of reach of them.

Bats. It was almost funny the young man wasn't alarmed by the filthy flying rodents closer to him. His full attention was devoted to getting away from the cougar below.

Landing in one tree at last, he gathered up as many pine cones as he could before looking back to the large carnivore, quickly coming towards him. Determination on the lad's face, he leapt out of the tree and pitched one cone straight between the animal's eyes. It yowled painfully, temporarily blinded by pain. Richard flipped and dropped to the ground, turning and running as fast as he could towards a rock formation not too far off. Grim desperation remained on his face as he ran as far and as fast as he could, away from the beast.

Slade could tell there were no more plans being built in the lad's head at that moment. His entire plan was to get away to safety. He didn't have any viable weapons so that was all he could do anyway. Growling to himself in disappointment, he darted after the two of them, ignoring the pesky screeching rodents above him. His apprentice was seeing the foolishness of his earlier tactic, trying to hide himself away in between two large stones while the cat came closer. It was one very upset kitty coming to the boy, ready to leap and slice off his head.

Would have too if the assassin hadn't shot the thing in the back of the skull. Blood spattered everywhere in front of the boy, freezing him in his tracks. As the cat slumped to the ground, lifeless, he could see his apprentice stone still and wide eyed. His eyes were locked on the creature as his skin turned ashen, blood splatters on his face. A state of shock. Great.

Deathstroke sighed heavily, propping the gun back over his shoulder. "Do you plan on staying out there all night Apprentice?"

No response.

Shaking his head, Slade reached between the stones and grabbed the boy's arm, pulling him out of the crevice. His jeans were torn and he could see where he skinned his knee earlier, still bleeding a little. There were signs of scrapes and bruises from running, falling, and turning hard on bark, but no signs of mauling from the cougar. All his injuries were superficial. Part of the man relaxed seeing that, but he still glared at Richard for being unresponsive. Being in shock from seeing an animal trying to kill you die was hardly acceptable.

"Richard. To attention."

Still no response. The teen's face was still as a statue, silent. His eyes remained on the cougar, but a good shake from his master brought his eyes over to him. "Snap out of it soldier. Now."

The lad blinked a few times, knocking him out of shock a little. He now stared at Slade, still silent as the grave. Disbelief, fear, even relief played on his face, making him open and close his mouth several times in a row without making a sound. He could only guess what was going through the lad's head. Shock and exhaustion were clearly in control of his mental faculties. "Any injuries? Report."

"Ah..." Even Richard's voice sounded weak. Nothing was connecting. He was in no condition to complete this exercise.

Shaking his head, Slade took a look at his GPS unit again and adjusted his course. "Follow, and do not deviate."

Numbly, the teenager nodded and walked behind him, head down as he still tried to make sense of everything. His mentor looked back to make sure he was following once or twice, only to see him doing as he was told, and still in a state of shock. Eyeing his filthy and torn up state, he inwardly scowled.

Wayne neglected a large part of the boy's education, namely wilderness survival. He raised a skilled boy only using a quarter of his potential. There was much he had to teach him, and so much more he'd have to unteach him.

High above them he could hear the local bats screeching, flapping, and eating their bugs. Slade scowled at them briefly but largely ignored them. They mattered little to him or to anything in the larger scheme of things. Nothing at all.

* * *

A/N: Again, sorry for killing the cougar. They do exist in northern Mexico, I looked it up. Same with bats and the rest. i just needed a shocking event that'd sink some positives about guns and Slade into Dick's head. He saved Dick's life with a gun, right in front of him. Now Dickybird loves animals because of the circus, so this was very traumatizing for him, and confusing. The bats being everywhere was a lot of fun. Slade really doesn't now what he's gotten in to. X3

Oh, so there's lots of training going on after this point, so be aware. Some things won't be pleasant.


	27. 27 - Hell in Daylight

Now to see some of the training. I'm afraid I'm a bit vague in some things. Not that knowledgeable.

* * *

**27 - Hell in Daylight**

Blood was everywhere. The gunshot filled his ears as the red liquid rained down before him. Bats screeched in protest above him but all he could see was the monster in front of him oozing out red and falling to the ground. Right behind it was an even worse monster. One that pulled him to his feet and forced him to move. Why couldn't he have been the one who died?

"Get up."

Dick jerked wide awake, despite only falling asleep maybe an hour ago. The sun was just creeping over the horizon, and that was from what he could see behind the large assassin in the doorway. His new 'room' left much to be desired. After his total mental freeze up the previous night, he didn't fight or resist or anything when Slade stripped him down, hosed him off, and put him in there. His mind was completely back with the cougar he led to its death. All he wanted was to get away from it, but instead Slade...

"On your feet Apprentice."

Shivering slightly in the cold stone room, the teen pushed himself off the floor and tried to look at the man with defiance. Wasn't working very well. The idea this man may have saved his life while costing him another still kept him off balance. Plus he was naked and incredibly sore. That didn't help very much.

A smirk came to his captor's face. "Good to see your fire's returning. Put these on." He threw a set of street clothes at him, making the lad jerk forward to catch them. "The ones from last night are no longer usable. Shoes are waiting for you next to breakfast."

Dick glared a bit, but nodded so the man would leave him to get dressed. He wasn't entirely convinced the guy wasn't a pedophile, but thus far he hadn't done anything to him. Closest thing to it was stripping him down and spraying him with that fire hose, and that reminded him of POW stories. He didn't really watch him dress or anything, but he still didn't like the guy around when he was. Once alone again, he dressed quickly and poked his head out. He hadn't taken a look at where they were earlier, too far in shock.

Well there wasn't any snow but there wouldn't be at this latitude and elevation. Trees surrounded the abandoned base they were on, or military outpost to be more precise. There were no fences, just one multiuse building, a radio tower, a fire pit, a well, the itty bitty stone building he was in, and the open glade they all resided in. Only the surplus of gravel kept the area from being overrun with weeds and grass. There was a recent bit of renovation for the place he could ID: a new gas powered generator and pressurized water pump. They still had that new straight-from-the-package look, even with the thin layer of dust and grass growing around it.

Slade was planning to take him there for a while. Probably from the beginning. That or it was one of his safe houses.

Glaring around in the pre-dawn light, he tried to get a better idea of how to move around there. A radio tower meant communication with the outside world. The multiuse building probably had some kind of radio, phone, or computer, maybe even telegraph. Being clearly an old US base/outpost (weren't they in Mexico?) judging by the building structure, it'd have to have some kind of emergency contact equipment. And Slade would have to contact his associates somehow right? He'd have to look through the place later.

Wincing with each step, Dick struggled to walk over the gravel to the fire pit where Wintergreen was cooking over an open flame. From the smell of it, they were having oatmeal with apples and cinnamon. His stomach started to growl at the scent, urging him to run over, but he hobbled instead. His whole body ached from the previous day's adventure, plus the hosing down, and sleeping on a cold concrete floor. Glancing once behind him, he wondered why he was put into that room so far from the rest of the camp. It looked a little weird too. What really was it?

"Hungry?" Wintergreen's voice broke through his wild thoughts, jerking his head around to see him before nodding emphatically. A small smirk appeared on the man's face as he held up a pair of high tops instead of a full bowl. "Better put these on then. You still have to earn your breakfast."

Internally the teen groaned as he took them. "I haven't eaten since yesterday morning!"

"Not even the berries in the bushes on the way down?" the old man asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Didn't know which were poisonous," he murmured, sitting on a log nearby and stuffing his feet into the shoes. "Never seen anything around here in a store or the pantry."

A light scowl appeared on the man's face. "You don't know anything about poisonous plants?"

"I know a few," Dick stated, lacing up his shoes tightly. "Poison ivy, poison oak, nightshade, things you're more likely to run into in Bristol."

"Bristol?"

"My part of Gotham." Setting his feet on the ground and testing the way the shoes felt, he remembered the impromptu lesson Alfred gave about certain local plants. That was one embarrassing day for him. Then he was told about the many times a young Bruce decided to pick wildflowers for his mother. Alfred always did have the best stories. "Large estates all over the place. Many have their own woods. We have woods, a cove, several fields... Come on, just a bite?"

He was practically drooling at the smell, his stomach growling painfully. He was so hungry, he was ready to jump the man just for one spoonful of the dish. And was that bacon not too far off? An amused smirk seemed to come to the man's face. "Not yet. Heard you had quite an adventure last night."

Remembering his dream, or rather the nightmare continuing the latest bout of trauma, Dick looked away. He squirmed uncomfortably as he murmured his answer. "You can call it that."

"He was worried about you, you know." Wintergreen, Slade's PR specialist. He really needed to get a clue and realize he was a seriously bad man. "When you didn't make it here in time, he started to worry. That was why he went after you, to see if you were alright."

"Hmph!" Folding his arms, he glared off towards the main building the man had to be in. "If he really cared about me, he'd set my family free and let me go. He wouldn't have abducted me. The only thing he's worried about is losing something he's invested so much time in."

"Well you're partly right." Hearing that man's chilling voice just behind him, Dick clammed up, stiffening as he sensed the man looming over him. "It would be a waste to lose you. Though seeing as you don't know a thing about survival outside the big city, I'm beginning to have my doubts. On your feet Apprentice. Earn your breakfast."

Dick jolted to his feet, falling into a fighting stance immediately. Slade didn't wait for him to be ready, ever. He barely dodged a blow to his shoulder before swinging around to kick him as high as he could reach. That was easily blocked, but he twisted himself in the air to scrape his foot across the man's mask. He barely caught himself though on the way down, twisting away in time to avoid a kick to his hands. Flipping away, he kept his eyes on his enemy, trying to read his next move. He couldn't beat him, but he had to land one blow before he was allowed to eat. Had to do it fast though or he'd run out of energy.

Dodging another strike, the teen nearly slipped on the gravel beneath him. Running around on small rocks was much different from their fights in the cargo holds or U-hauls. This was more like a fight on the playground than the streets. Adjusting his footing accordingly, the lad jolted forward, keeping his eyes on his opponent's face rather than the intended target.

He threw a punch at the man's face, knowing it'd be knocked aside. Instead of striking out a second time with his other hand, he grabbed him with his first fist, swinging himself upward, and rammed his knee into the man's side. His other foot slid beneath him, forcing Dick into a spin around the madman to regain his footing. Slade took advantage of it and tripped him mid spin, struck his closest shoulder, and sent him careening to the ground. The teen barely managed to break his fall before serious injury occurred.

"Not bad," the man teased, taking off his mask. The man tended to wear it when they were fighting. Made it more difficult for Dick to read him. "Still need to consider your environment before striking, but you didn't telegraph your intent this time. You're improving Apprentice. And adapting quickly."

Dick just glared up at the guy, controlling his breathing. He wasn't going to take the complement or criticism. All he wanted was breakfast. Swiftly he rolled onto his feet, ready for round two if there was one. Judging by the relaxing state of the man's body though, there probably wasn't going to be one this time.

"Eat your meal. You'll need the energy for what's next." The assassin stepped away, joining his friend by the fire. A bowl was served to him without complaint along with some meat and a tin of coffee.

The teen didn't sit and get his food quite yet. Curiosity and caution warned him from it for the moment. "Which is?"

"Survival training." The one-eyed man smirked knowingly at the boy. A knot formed in his stomach at what that could mean. "You have muscles and you have skills. It's time you learned to use them in a real life setting."

He watched the man for a few minutes more before sitting on a log and taking his portion of the food. If it weren't for the gnawing pain of his stomach, he didn't know if he could have been able to eat at that moment. Whatever survival training meant, he was not looking forward to it.

* * *

He was right. This was torture. By the end of the day, Dick thought he was going to die. Already he'd torn up another pair of jeans and gained a few more bruises and cuts. He hadn't even recovered from the previous day and he was expected to do the impossible. Worse yet, his limbs' movements were constricted a bit by ropes and weights were put on his person. Doubly worse, he had to carry a full army pack and a hunting rifle as they traveled through the valley. And they marched around the entire valley, stopping only occasionally for Slade to give him an impromptu lesson on plants and wild life. Hunting lessons were guaranteed in his future.

Again his stomach was empty, exhausted when he fell onto the log by the fire. The sun was down hours ago and they barely made it back to the base. Finally able to remove the ropes and weights on him, the teen tried to relax a little before receiving his dinner: a simple stew and roll. Wintergreen kept to a simple menu and it was rather bland, but it was nutritious and filling. It kept him going at least, but he missed Alfred's cooking terribly.

"Don't forget to stretch Apprentice," Slade chided him before taking a seat nearby for his dinner. Rolling his eyes, the boy complied, working with his legs and back first. He focused on his breathing with professional skill as he went, taking complete control of his faculties again. That was one skill the madman was impressed with, and shocked that he learned it from Bruce. He really didn't have a high opinion of the man.

"Have you given your codename anymore thought?" the assassin asked out of the blue, slightly surprising the teen. He practically forgot about that conversation, though it couldn't be that long ago.

"Nope," was Dick's simple reply, easing out of his stretch. Man he was hungry! A cooling bowl of stew waited to his left and he eagerly took it, devouring every spoonful.

Disappointment crossed the man's face. "Did any of them strike your interest?"

"Not really," he managed to get out between bites. He was just so hungry everything tasted good. Hungry, tired, wasted. All he wanted to do right then was eat then crash. So so tired. Where was he going to be sleeping anyway? That weird shack from earlier?

"None of them?" The teen shrugged, wolfing down his roll before passing his bowl over to Wintergreen for a refill. What did he care about names anyway? He was just trying to survive and not get anyone killed. "Why not?"

"I'm not the scary name type. Thanks." He gladly took the second bowl and continued to eat in silence. Man he was starved. He may be able to ID a whole bunch of edible (ie, you won't die eating this) things in the area now, but nothing compared to food made to be eaten at that moment. "I mean, I named my baby toy Peanut. Not really scary."

"Hm." Dick did his best to ignore the agreeing noise, hating the similarities he kept finding between this man and Bruce. They ate in silence for a minute before he spoke again. "I rather like the sound of Scorn and Renegade. Ravenger is another good option."

"Whatever." Deathstroke and Ravenger. Now that was a dynamic duo. The teen slowed down his eating frenzy, no longer starving. Taking a swig from the canteen he filled on the trail, he looked up to the stars. The flurry of batwings and squeaking filled his ears as he looked for his favorite winged mammal. It was nice being able to hear them, but he almost missed the echoing effect of the cave. He could almost see Batman's uniform in its case if he closed his eyes.

A stray thought crossed his mind, making him smirk at the sky. If Bruce had stayed in the field and taken him as an apprentice, he'd probably go by Robin. Batman and Robin. Now that was a real dynamic duo. Oh if only.

"Something funny Apprentice?" Slade looked over him questioningly. The teenager hadn't realized he was showing any signs of happiness until he spoke.

He just shrugged and finished his dinner. "Just a thought about home. Mind if I just go to bed now? I didn't get much sleep earlier."

The man seemed to think about it for a minute before nodding. "There's a bathroom in the bunker. The unlocked room next to it is yours. Don't bother picking any of the other locks," he stated, almost mockingly. He knew Dick would explore the building. He had at the previous base after all. "They're electromagnetically sealed with fingerprint access. You may be able to pick locks, but unless you can rewire a control panel and hack my systems, you're out of luck."

That earned a small glare from the kid before he stood up and started towards the building. After a second, he looked back to the men, curiosity getting the better of him. One of his many failings no doubt. "What's that building over there for? A storage shed?"

He pointed to the small stone structure he woke up in that morning. Wintergreen gave Slade a knowing, even warning look, while the assassin chuckled darkly. "Ever seen _The Great Escape_?"

Dick scowled at the question. It sounded a little familiar, like something Alfred would have brought up. Was it important? "Don't think so..."

"Shame." The man leaned on his knees a bit, positioned to scare him. Was the things supposed to be scary? "In World War Two, they had a... special technique... to handle disobedient prisoners. The Axis would put them in isolation. POWs called it the Cooler."

"And this has to do with some escape show... Why?" He didn't see the point of the obscure reference, but already he didn't like the sounds of that place. One, maybe two hours in it while in shock didn't seem like much, but for WWII POWs, it must have meant something.

"Steve McQueen played the Cooler King Captain Hilts." The man's smirk gave him chills. "Do you think you could stand a month in that room?"

When the teen didn't answer, he straightened a bit and went back to his dinner. "Good night Apprentice. Rest well. You'll need it in the morning."

* * *

A/N: Yeah, I skipped all the romping around in the woods. I don't know a lot about plants, especially in mexico, so I'm not even going to try. THe fight sequence was good though. Have to admit that typing this part was kinda like pulling teeth, but it turned out okay.

So we started with a dream sequence where Dick is still reeling from that happened the previous night, and ended with a Great escape reference. That's really where I got the cooler idea. It's a good movie and half of it is really funny. Old too. I've seen it referenced in a lot of other films and TV shows too, so go see it. Beyond that, we see a few names that could be Dick's new alias. ten points to the one who figures it out. If you already know, congrats. Either way, looks like Dick's kinda getting used to things, just a little. Hates it, but is used to it. Tomorrow we return to the Waynes.


	28. 28 - Locked Away Heroes

Back to Gotham for a bit, plus some recurring OCs from DNB.=)

* * *

**28 - Locked Away Heroes**

"I really am sorry about this Mr. Wayne," Principal Stacy started as he led Bruce down the hallway. The bell would ring soon for passing period and he wanted to direct their greatest patron to their destination before the place got crowded. "But rules are rules. We can't keep his locker or textbooks there with him missing school for five weeks straight."

"I understand." Bruce Wayne followed him to a part of the place he wasn't familiar with: lockers. He personally hadn't attended high school, just had private tutors after his parents' deaths and being with Alfred. He couldn't take the other students comments and caused fights. His kids though were much better behaved than he was, perfectly capable of functioning in normal school environments (provided they were given a few months to grieve for their losses first. Being sent straight to a boarding school after that was a large mistake on his relatives' behalf's, and made it much easier for him to cut himself off from them later in life). "Thank you for asking me to do it."

"Not a problem. Here it is. B17." A large sturdy paper sack was in one hand and a notecard in the other. "Coach Winters should be in the gymnasium and will help you with his PE locker when you're done. I'm afraid I have a budget meeting to get to. Do you need directions or-"

"I can find my own way there, thanks." The principal nodded, handing him the items and excused himself just before the passing period started. A lump in Bruce's throat, he slowly turned the dial on Dick's locker. To think it hadn't been touched in nearly two months...

When it opened, he saw a little mess and a bit of dust, but nothing out of the ordinary. A couple textbooks wrapped in paper bag covers with doodles all over them, code words for titles instead of actual names on the spines. A thermos, half empty soda bottle, some candy bars he wasn't allowed to have at home, cough drops and tissues, random bandaids and wraps, a bag of water balloons, a comb, stale cookies... He looked to the inside of the locker door, spotting several things marking it as his son's. A small magnetic mirror, Justice League themed magnets holding up pictures of his friends and family, a photo booth strip of Dick and Barbara (probably on a date he didn't know about), and an etched R in a circle. It really was Dick's seal of approval.

A couple pictures stood out of the many cluttering the door: one of his parents by his side as a child at the circus, and one of the two of them covered in mud after a failed horseback riding lesson. He all but forgot about that day.

The two of them had only been together for a few months and were talking about different skills they had. Honestly the man was wondering if he'd have to teach him how to ride a bicycle. Turned out Dick learned how to ride a unicycle when he was a kid, along with a bicycle, skateboard, scooter, and rollerblades. He knew a bit of trick riding too, but traditional horseback riding wasn't covered in the circus. Elephant riding apparently was, along with other obscure animals. So one afternoon Bruce took it upon himself to teach him how. He forgot how hard it was it was for Alfred to teach him. And like the butler, he was covered in mud by the end to the lesson, with Dick. The old man took a photo commemorating the occasion, no doubt thinking about karma.

The memory made him smile sadly. Slowly he took each of the personal items off the door and out of the locker, putting photographs and small items in one of his coat pockets and small pieces of trash in the other. Carefully he took the covers off of the textbooks, folding the 'art pieces' carefully and putting them under his arm. The books themselves went into the bag so the school could claim them quietly. By the time the passing period was over, all that was left within were larger items, and his trash pocket was full. He left the door open for a minute to empty the one pocket and carry away the larger pieces of trash. With those out of the way, he started collecting the larger bits. Some went into his coat while large pieces like the thermos could only be carried. He wished the principal had given him a second bag for the stack. Then again the bag could have been for his things and not the schools. He never cleared out a locker before.

With the thing empty, excepting the R etching in the door, Bruce closed the locker and headed back to the bookstore to drop off the sack. It didn't take long to get there and even less time to empty the sack of the heavy books only to refill it with the bobbles he couldn't fit in his coat earlier. Next stop would be the gym and the locker there. As he turned to leave, someone called out to him.

"Mr. Wayne?"

"Hm?" He turned slightly, spotting a woman in her late thirties coming towards him. She wasn't a teacher or staff member he knew about (he did background checks on everyone expected to have contact with his children), but the way she came towards him did not appear threatening or seductive. Wedding ring, modest business suit, glasses... Judging from her body she was a mother at least twice over, giving birth once in the past year. She was newer to Gotham too. She didn't have the jaded look most people had who lived there for a long time had.

She seemed unsure of who he was as well. "You're Mr. Wayne right? Richard Grayson's father?"

"In the legal sense." Bruce looked up and down her once again, relaxing slightly. She seemed safe enough.

She breathed out a relieved sigh. "Oh good. I thought I heard something about Richard's dad coming in the office but I wasn't sure if I'd recognize you. I've been so busy here I haven't been able to pay attention to Gotham social life."

"And you would be..." The CEO gave her a dubious look. Why was she looking for him?

"Oh. I'm Lydia Burk, the senior class' career counselor. Well," she shrugged, "I also help them choose classes, help them get into colleges, you know, the person they talk to before making the big graduation leap.

"I've spoken with your son and I have to say I agree with you. He didn't run away." What Mrs. Burk said lifted the man's spirits a bit. So many people were saying he ran these days, despite his protests. And someone now believed him. Why she did became clear soon. "Richard was looking forward to graduation and going off to college. I helped him change this term's electives to better aim him to his career goals."

"Career goals?" Confusion grew on his face. Come to think of it, the two of them never talked about the future. It was one of many things Bruce kept pushing off... at least until now.

The lady gave him a slight smile. "Yes. He didn't want me to tell you, but I feel it's important you know." She handed over a file she was carrying, filled with photocopies. Just a copy of Dick's file. "He had plans to enter the police academy-"

"Police academy?!" Dick wanted to be a cop? He never mentioned this before!

"-right out of high school," she continued as if never interrupted, "but I convinced him that if he wanted to be a detective, like his hero, going to college and getting a criminology degree would be a better choice."

"His hero?" Bruce blinked rapidly in confusion. Superman wasn't a detective. Clark was an investigative journalist, but they only uncovered details and exposed them to the general public. Detectives dug deeper and found physical evidence, proving what the other found out in order to bring the culprit to justice. "Are you talking about Superman?"

Mrs. Burk smiled knowingly. "Read his paper. I know I promised him you'd never see this, but under the circumstances..." She looked up at him in slight sympathy. "I really think you should have a look. If leaking it to the press is useful, I'll gladly help, but it's up to you."

They stood there in silence for a moment before he gave her a nod and a slight smile. "Thank you Mrs. Burk. For believing in him."

"Thank you for raising him." She gave him one last encouraging smile before turning to leave. "You raised a good kid."

He watched her leave for a moment then looked back to the file. In all prudence, he should have just put it into the sack with the rest of the school things he gathered, but his curiosity got the better of him. Finding a chair, the man sat down and opened the file, reading the paper in question.

_Richard Grayson_

_Senior Comp._

_Mr. Tenny_

_8-27-XX_

**_Holy Cops and Robbers!_**

_Being asked what a teenager wants to be when they grow up is a very loaded question, especially those being brought up in high society. We're all expected to follow in our parents' footsteps and take over their companies or career paths. I'm one of the lucky ones whose parents or guardians would be proud of them no matter what career they picked. I know my dad would encourage me to pick whatever job made me happy and fulfilled, even if it's dangerous. What's life without a little danger? We have heroes out there risking their lives every day for us, and I want to be counted among them. In the future, I plan on being a police detective, the best this world has ever known._

_Ever since I was a kid, I've always wanted to save lives, protect the innocent, and bring evil doers to justice. My parents died in front of me when I was eight so it shouldn't be such a big surprise. If I could have prevented their deaths, I would have. I don't regret being taken in by Bruce Wayne or having the family I do now - in fact, they're the people who keep me going - but if I could go back and save my family I would. I would have saved everyone's parents if I could. Unfortunately that's impossible. Not even Superman can travel back in time._

_I bring up Superman because for most of my life I've admired him. He's by far one of the coolest superheroes of all time, and I'm a major fan. But there's another hero out there I think is more amazing, and being just like him as been my dream since my parents received justice. Batman made certain my parents' murder didn't become a cold case, and he did it without powers. Using detective skills, he tracked him down when no one else could. He chased him down, took him out, and handed him over to the proper authorities. Seeing the man in action was the highlight of the worst time of my life, and knowing he was just a normal human being behind that cowl let me see possibilities for the future._

_When I met Batman all those years ago, he stopped me from plunging head first into a fight. I was trying to get my parents' killer, but he sat me down and explained that I couldn't go into any fight, any search, blindly. To get justice certain things had to be done, and to find someone you had to use your head. He also explained that this wasn't a world for children so I couldn't be there to see it all happen. He told me that if I wanted to bring justice to the world, I had to do it the right way, in a police uniform._

_So that's why I want to be a policeman. I want to be like my hero Batman and stop criminals, bringing them to justice. I don't want to see another kid lose their parents if I can help it. I don't have a medical mind or really one for numbers, so I can't follow in Bruce or his father's footsteps; returning to the circus wouldn't feel right either after being away for so long. But I can move forward and be the best cop the world's ever seen. Just give me a few years._

Dick received a B+ for the assignment, but the teacher wrote a note saying that they only heard of the urban legend of Batman and doubted he was real. The teen's scrawl was underneath the note with a teasing face saying the teacher was just jealous he met the dark knight and the man hadn't. The paper's topic was, 'What is your career of choice and why?'. The kid certainly answered it.

Bruce just gaped at the paper, holding back his tears along with his breath. He didn't know. He didn't realize exactly what he meant to the boy he raised. He always assumed... because of all the Superman themed products he used... He was certain Clark was Dick's hero, not him. Not Batman. But here... It was clear as day now how much the lad wanted to really be like him. He wanted to be a hero too.

His mind wandered back to the argument. Dick insisted that he never wanted Batman to retire. He only wanted to join him in the field. Bruce said no, then and now. He retired to ensure the boy was never in the line of fire. Dick's one time in the field when he took out Zucco was the closest he was supposed to get. So the teen found a way around it. After all, he didn't have enough influence in Gotham to prevent Dick from becoming a cop. And he wanted to be one because of him.

He held onto his mouth, holding back what he could as he thought of his son and his ambitions. Would he be even allowed to follow this path after this? If... no when they found him, would he still want to be a cop? Just what was happening to his child all this time? All the questions, all the worries he had, surged through his head at that moment, nearly overpowering him.

'_Dick,_' he silently prayed, '_please be alright. I'll be proud of whatever decision you make in the future, just come back to me._'

* * *

"Dad?" Jason found Bruce during the next passing period, readjusting his uniform as he came towards him. The man was in a daze, something he occasionally saw him in lately when the man was alone for too long. Usually, it was how he looked whenever they caught him in Dick's room. He was so lost in thought, everything around him didn't matter. It hurt to see the man so broken.

The teen made sure he came up in front of his dad before putting a hand on his shoulder to get his attention. "Dad? You okay?"

The billionaire raised his head and looked deep into his second eldest son's jade eyes, the white lock ever apparent. This one suffered so much and managed to stand up once again last year. It was hard to believe Jason was only thirteen. Dick would be turning seventeen next month and faced just as bad of trials as he had, bouncing back pretty quickly. If these two could do it once, they were sure to do it again. He gave his son a slight smile. "In a bit. Come here."

Obediently, the teen came into his father's arms and let himself be held onto for a minute or two. Bruce tried to keep a strong face around them, but whenever the man felt weak and let it show, Jason liked to pretend he didn't see it and just go with the flow. After the minute, the man eased away from him and looked him in the eye. "Why are you over here? Shouldn't you be in class?"

"Shortcut," the boy stated quickly. "Why are you here?"

He sighed and stood up, placing the folder into the bag to carry it all together. "The principal called and asked me to take Dick's things. Still need to do his PE locker. I'll walk you to class."

"You really don't-"

"I'm walking you to class." The finality in his voice made Jason bite back any and all objections. With any luck, the man wouldn't realize going through the bookstore wasn't a shortcut between classes. His father waved a hand towards the main part of the complex. "Lead the way."

The teen shrugged. "Okay, but you better move fast old man. Think you can keep up?"

"I think I can manage." A slight smirk came to the man's face and the two of them were off, one focused on moving quickly through the crowd and the other making sure he didn't lose another boy.

* * *

A/N: I read an article years ago about how a teacher felt horrible removing all of a missing girl's things from a cubby a month after her abduction, so that's how the locker emptying came about. School rules are still school rules and they can't keep the locker reserved forever. Shame on Dick for defacing school property though. =p So the little story Bruce reminisced about kinda came from the Tim burton batman movie. Pay attention to Alfred's story that he tells Vikki in it sometime near the beginning. It's pretty funny. And I have a headcannon for Bruce's youth and education that I may write up one day, but hint at all the time.

Now about the essay, I had to write one back in high school. I told people I wanted to be a superhero but knew that couldn't happen so went for writing. Dick's essay was always to simply tell people that even though he loved Superman and his ideals, Batman was his hero and he wanted to be like him. So Bruce is the one he wants to follow after, not Clark, and he never told him that. Imagine B's shock right now. Fun fun times!


	29. 29 - Race to Isolation

Long one, with a blip from Bruce and more repercussions for them.

* * *

**29 - Race to Isolation**

The terrain was very hard to get used too. Trees and wildlife everywhere, very little he could name. He only had a rough idea where he was. He had a feeling they crossed the US border a few times just to mess him up. Slade did a lot of that.

Like dropping him off at the top of a ridge and telling him to make it back to camp before sunset. This was the second time he was dropped off like this, forced to race down the mountain side and make it back to their current haunt. Racing the sun wasn't something he wanted to do, especially in unfriendly territory. He still hadn't decided if this was a jungle or a forest.

Dick leapt over an overhanging ledge and caught the limb of an unknown tree before doing a series of somersaults to glide through the branches forward. He didn't have time to climb to the ground and do normal hiking, he was racing the sun! And it was winning. He had to get back to that abandoned military outpost! If he was late again he'd…

The teenager couldn't suppress the shiver going down his spine. Going cross country inside the back of a dark semi-truck for hours on end training wasn't nearly as bad as being shoved into a pitched black room with nothing there, at all. That stone cold room… he really wasn't sure how long he was in there. No light, no food, no water, no clothes, nothing but himself in that room. And that was after Slade 'cleaned him up'. He really didn't want to go through that again.

But knowing how far he'd gone in only this much time, and that man's disposition, he was going to spend a lot more time in that horrid place. At least until he got with whatever program that guy had in his head. Dick could spend days trying to figure out what that guy wanted, what Slade wanted, from him and never get even remotely close. Bruce was so much easier to figure out.

Remembering the man as he leapt from one large rock to another sent needles into his heart. He worked so hard not to cry and scream Bruce's name every other night. Or day. Everything was turning into one big blur, and missing someone, calling out their name and knowing they'd never hear you only made it worse. How he longed to leave this hell he was in, to go back to the safety of that man's presence. He knew he could run, leave whenever he wanted to, but doing that would kill his siblings. Bruce wouldn't want him then.

His steps faltered, throwing him forward and having to catch himself in a roll before sprinting again. He couldn't think about them either. The guilt of knowing their lives hung in the balance of his obedience to a psychopathic killer ate away at him constantly. When his mind was forced blank by the constant workouts and he wasn't able to hate Slade (something that only happened when he wasn't around and he was exhausted) for a second, his mind wandered to them and also to that woman in the warehouse. Logic told him she was either dead or in a state where she couldn't talk to the authorities. Either way, she had been in a great deal of pain when those probes attacked.

Slade was willing to force the same pain onto four kids who were under half her weight. The same intensity. He doubted Damian would have survived. One false move his master couldn't tolerate and…

He didn't see the branch until it was too late. As the acrobat's body continued forward, his head flew back and landed on the ground, flat on his back. Rocks, twigs, some kinds of acorns and other unknowns drove into his back, tearing holes into the thin shirt he was wearing along with adding more cuts and bruises to his skin.

"Ow…" he groaned, staying still for a moment in case he started to black out. After getting beaned in the head by a bat by Two-Face, he knew when to stay down and regain his bearings. '_Focus on breathing. In. Out. In. Out. In…_'

Dick regained consciousness just as the sun touched the horizon. He hadn't moved an inch. "Ah crap." Gingerly he touched the place he was hit who knew how long ago. A mixture of sap and blood met his fingers, telling him all he needed to know. "Great. Skull fracture, concussion, possible infection… Leslie would have my hide. Ow. Cooler, here I come. Ugh…"

Slowly he pushed himself back up to his feet, trying to actually figure out where he was relative to his target. No recognizable signs, but he was over half way there. He reached into his pocket and took out the handheld GPS, checking where he was that way. Still too far northeast, maybe five miles off. He didn't know the terrain so there could be some hitches in his pathway. Looking towards the sun again he sighed heavily. He couldn't guarantee survival or making it to the haunt unless he walked at an even pace. The pounding in his head secured his mode of transportation. There was no way he was running now.

About two hours after sunset he made it to the outpost, wincing at the bright light of the fire. Slade was cleaning his weapons while Wintergreen cleaned up the remains of what had to be a stew. Dick didn't even bother to hide his presence as he came towards them. He twisted his ankle on a root in the dark and further scratched up his hands and arms forcing his way through the brush. The calluses on the palms of his hands were what saved him from serious damage there, and let's not forget the gash on his forehead. He was a wreck, in need of medical attention, though not as severe as it could have been.

"You're late." Slade didn't even look at him, still sharpening knives. "I told you not to treat it like a country hike."

"Ran into a tree." Slowly he shuffled into the light, keeping his distance from his captor. The maskless assassin looked him over with his one eye, frowning slightly. "Couldn't promise getting here if I didn't walk."

"Hm." Wilson looked up and down him for a moment longer before putting aside his knife. "Bring that tackle box over here."

Dumbly Dick nodded and walked over to a stack of supplies they kept on hand. To the side of it was a normal tackle box, filled with bandages and wraps. Another box had medicine and he saw a sewing kit once. The bandages were being restocked constantly. Soon he was two feet from his master, one lightly bleeding hand extending the kit forward so the man could grab it. Frustrated, Slade roughly grabbed the teen's wrist and yanked him forward. "Why must you be so stubborn Apprentice?"

"Why do you have to threaten people's lives to get what you want?" The captive stood his ground, though he had stumbled forward when he was pulled. He gave the man a hard glare, reminding him how much he resented the guy. Inside he knew he was asking for the worst, but if he was going to get it, he better earn it in spades.

Slade just raised an eyebrow at him, his lips tightening in disapproval. "Wintergreen, beer."

The kid blinked in confusion as the man caught a can, warm instead of the way most people drank it. He popped the tab and then started pouring the drink on his open wounds. Dick hissed in pain, dropping the box while trying to pull away. The smell was horrible and the stinging along with his wrist being in a vice would have brought him to tears had he been a few years younger. He was getting close to them now. The man's hand moved up his arm so he could get all the wounds. "Kneel."

Biting back an insult, he let his knees collapse to the ground. The can had been emptied by just disinfecting his arms, so another one was tossed to him. Staying true to his pattern, the man poured the can over his head, forcing Dick to tightly close his eyes and mouth. He practically held his breath while the liquid ran down his face and coughed painfully when it ran over his head wound. Some went down his back and his shoulders shot up involuntarily. Slade stopped pouring, frowning even more. "Take off your shirt."

As glad as he was to have his arm released, Dick did not want to remove anything, especially in front of this guy. He'd already seen him naked, several times. He was reevaluating whether this man was a gay pervert every time he was ordered to strip. "Apprentice, turn around and take off your shirt."

Glowering at the man, he slowly turned around on his knees, sliding the t-shirt off his body. He could hear an audible sigh just before the rest of the can was dumped onto the wounds on his back. Again the boy flinched, having ignored the cuts he gained from falling earlier until then. He hadn't even bothered to brush off leaves and twigs when he got up. Only when the second can was empty did he get a break. The heat from the fire before him was starting to burn his skin.

"Get up."

'_Here it comes._' As he started pushing himself off his knees, Slade grabbed his upper arm and pulled. His jaw tightened as they came towards the cooler, a five by five by five foot concrete building, on the outside. Only the cracks around the solid wood door allowed for air to pass through. Lock on the outside, sturdy and unbreakable for anyone who resided within (unless they had superstrength, which he didn't). But as much as he feared being in there again, it was the large pressurized hose resting next to it that scared him more.

"You smell horrible." The one-eyed man thrust him towards the cooler's wall, letting a bruise refresh itself on his opposite shoulder. "Shoes and pants, over there."

Dick shivered involuntarily. "Please, Slade no. Don't—"

"You've already ruined your shirt," the man stated flatly. "Don't add the rest to the list. And what have I told you to call me?"

Shaking and wincing at the threatening tone of the man's voice, he whispered, "Master."

"Exactly. Shoes and pants," Slade brought the hose up to a firing position, "now."

Biting his lip, the teen obeyed, tossing what was left of his clothes to the side. Buck naked before this man once again, he waited for the inevitable. Pressurized water struck him, bruising and cleaning him at the same time. He didn't stay still, he never could. For nearly five minutes he writhed against the current, crying out and trying to fight it on instinct, even though he knew Slade's aim was perfect and there was no escape. And like all those times before, ever since that Christmas day this torture started, he eventually fell to the ground, pressed against the wall for support and huddled over for warmth. Though they had gone south, it was still a cold winter's night. And he was sopping wet.

Curled into a fetal position, his back turned to his master, Dick sobbed into his hands, shaking uncontrollably. His stomach turned in knots, his head hurt from his thoughts and concussion, and every part of him ached from the constant physical training. And he knew it would only get worse. He had done everything the man demanded (grudgingly) and yet he was still punished. He hardly mouthed off anymore, especially since his comments usually rewarded him this kind of treatment. But even when he was good and obedient he was punished! He was hurt and covered in more wounds than he had most his life (that time with Two-Face being the only acceptation). This man… his master… was a monster. He'd be throwing him into that prison again any minute now.

When a towel covered hand rested on his back, he flinched on instinct. Had Wintergreen felt pity for him at last and gone against his friend's wishes? He dared not look, but other than flinching at the man's touch, he didn't resist as someone toweled him off and started adding bandages to his back.

"You need to be aware of your surroundings Richard." Slade's voice so close to his head made him jerk around in alarm. _He_ was helping him? Running the towel over his hair then taking another piece of plaster to his face, he continued his lecture, keeping his voice even. "None of these injuries would have happened if you paid more attention and kept at an even pace. You want to see your path clearly, you make it here by sunset. Do not make that mistake again."

Dick just gaped at him, disbelief and terror trying to take control of his face. Slade… this monster… was giving him advice? He almost sounded like…

Partway through bandaging his hand and wrist, the teenager jerked away from him, horrified. He pressed his back against the wall, staring wide eyed at his captor and breathing hard at the thought that just crossed his mind. They were nothing alike. Nothing! The way the guy's eye steeled when he saw the boy's reaction was proof of that. _His_ temples didn't pulse like that when _he_ was upset with him, and _he_ could always look him in the eyes. This man didn't, not really. He only glanced at them then took looks all over him, analyzing every move he made critically.

"Is that how you want to learn from this Apprentice? Fine." Slade grabbed his arm again roughly and pulled him to his feet towards the cooler door. Dick pulled away from it and him by instinct, driving his feet into the ground. He knew this was coming, knew this would happen, but couldn't stop himself from fighting.

"No! Stop! Master please!"

But his pleas fell on deaf ears as he was thrown into the small, cold chamber. No light, no padding, no warmth. No hope. All he could do was roll with the throw to dull the impact and stare at the doorway, his only way out. Slade glared at him coldly, disappointed. "You need to accept your fate Richard. That's the only way you'll improve. Accept our fate and then everything will fall into place."

"Master no!" '_Not again! Not alone!_' Terror gripped his heart.

"This is for your own good."

And with that the door locked shut, taking away the light and any hope of freedom. Dick lunged for the door, pounding at it and screaming for help. Maybe Wintergreen would show pity and let him out. Maybe Superman would fly overhead on his way to some crisis or another and find them! Maybe fairies would see him as one of their own and take him away! As his cries to be let out of that impossible cell diminished, crazy escape theories flew through his mind, each more unlikely than the next. The pounding on the door became weaker and weaker, and tears strangled his voice as he slid back to the floor.

"I'll be good… I promise I'll be good… please… just let me out… don't leave me alone… don't leave me…" '_I'm sorry. G-d I'm so sorry. Please forgive me. Don't hurt them. Don't leave me alone. I'm sorry Bruce, I'm so sorry._' Crumbling in the dark, the boy curled in on himself and cried his heart out, shivering in the cold stone room, alone.

* * *

"Slade," Wintergreen eyed his friend with some distaste next to the campfire, "are you certain about this course of action? His injuries—"

"He won't let me treat him anymore than that." Slade picked up the clothes and placed them alongside others in need of cleaning. It would be his apprentice's duty to take care of them once his time in solitary was done, again. "Won't even let me touch him to help."

"You haven't exactly given him reason to." This earned the man a slight glare. "Pointing it out. But it appears you've found his greatest weaknesses and exposed them. You should be very careful about how you use them."

"He has to learn to accept his new life," the assassin stated flatly. "He's used to being indulged by Wayne, and I cannot have a spoiled apprentice. Richard has so much potential, and that man has squandered it. I am merely ripping away the fat Wayne's lathered him in and bringing out the true warrior he is deep inside. It'll be painful," he stated, then grinned, "but when I'm done, he'll be better than any self-acclaimed hero in all of history."

* * *

Nine weeks. Bruce couldn't sleep. Not that it was surprising really. Looking over the note Dick left behind in that gas station in Smallville, he felt like he should be seeing something, but couldn't figure out what. Half of the page was in black and the other half orange, all ink. There was even a center crease dividing the two sides to ensure he wrote it right. And 'Cass' had an extra 'S'. Black, orange, 'S', half one color and half another. There was a message there, but what?

There was an 'S' earlier in the case too. When Dick left those rings on their chain on his clothes, he made it look like an 'S'. One ring on one end and the other at the other. It told the detective one thing. He knew who his kidnapper was from the beginning, and something about the letter 'S' was involved.

Why did the message have to be so cryptic? The man sighed and looked over the possible kidnappers he'd compiled and the ones he knocked off the list. Superman, Wonder Woman, and Martian Manhunter spent the past week checking on the League of Assassins and the League of Shadows, despite his assurances they had nothing to do with this. Ra's had no interest in Dick, ever. If it weren't for Bruce's fondness for him in particular, he would have killed him years ago. Besides, this was a kidnapping still contained in the US, through Kansas of all things. Dick would have used another sign if it were that madman anyway.

Other possible 'S' related suspects were being knocked off the list slowly, but it was hard to distinguish who could have or would have motive. So far every 'S' related villain and socialite were accounted for, at least in Gotham.

Orange and Black. Black and orange. Half and half. That part of the clue still eluded him. Why those colors? Why half and half? For a moment he thought of Scarecrow, but Crane was in Arkham the entire time. The suspects were really winding him down.

"Your report?"

"How did you even—" Superman gaped at the exhausted insomniac at the large computer, wondering when he knew he came in.

Bruce just gave him an are-you-really-that-dumb? glare before rubbing his eyes. "Are you satisfied with what you learned from Ra's and his men?"

The man of steel looked away, grumbling to himself. "Not really, but he wasn't lying. They don't have him. Don't even care if he's alive or dead. He did say that if you didn't 'prove capable of protecting even one of your offspring, then you are not suited to raise his grandson'. I think he's waiting to see what you do next or if we can find Dick at all. If he's not satisfied—"

"He and Talia will reclaim Damian, I know." He already received a threatening letter from his Ex-Fiancé saying so. Apparently they were letting him raise Damian until he learned all his father could teach him or until Bruce proved to be incapable of grooming an appropriate heir for their empire. "We have until summer before they make their move against us."

"I still think they know where he is or who has him," his friend reiterated. "Ra's seemed to think it was funny that you didn't know, but wouldn't tell."

"Despite popular belief, I don't know everything." He looked back to his computer, trying to make some connections before attempting to go to bed once again. "I just usually know where and how to look."

"Do you know your baby's crying for you right now?"

Bruce looked once at Superman before near leaping out of his chair and darting back into the manor above. His friend shook his head sadly as he watched him leave. Looking for one kid, watching over four others, the former dark knight was falling apart. The man really needed something, anything, just to rest for a bit. But as much as he'd like to take over the man's duties for a few hours, Bruce never let anyone do his job, ever. Except Dick that one time.

Question was, if he kept going at the rate he was, would he be able to do anything for any of his children soon?

* * *

A/N: Such a sad note to end it on. Anywho, Ra's would know what happened to Dick, his information network being a lot bigger and better than Bruce's, plus both parties being of interest to him, he'd know about it within a few hours. Since Bruce is supposed to be the great detective, he sees it as a test of his skills. If he doesn't have the skills, then there's no reason for Damian to stay with him. So yeah, they now have a time limit. Can they beat it? B3 We'll see.

As for the training, this was the original down hill run. And I've run into a tree before, while on my bicycle. not fun, but I cracked up laughing anyway. It was just too cartoonish and ridiculous to happen that I couldn't help it. Also been attacked by a skeleton but that's another story. Slade's still trying to get into DIck's head and get him to latch onto him for Stockholm syndrome, and Dick's still fighting that tooth and nail. Take a good look at how Dick thinks in the next few chapters. Things are going to change in that head of his, already has a bit. Before this, he was a well adjusted teenager. Now... not so much. *evil laugh*

FYI, you've got another week and a half of torture before things start panning out. TTFN!


	30. 30 - Search Contributions

Be of good cheer! You're past the halfway point.

* * *

**30 - Search Contributions**

Dick just stared blankly off into the darkness, letting his misery seep into the stones around him. Too exhausted to resist, no will to fight. He knew he was breaking, but he didn't know what else to do. His treatment was getting worse when he wasn't training. He was treated well then, as well as a soldier in training that is. But whenever his master was displeased…

Closing his eyes for a moment, he searched his memories for something to warm him inside. The darkness encouraged images of the batcave in his mind, and his happiest of late involved everyone wearing Bruce's cowls and just hanging out, imitating the mysterious Batman. Damian looked so cute as a miniature dark knight and his other siblings seemed to walk with ease in the Kevlar and Nomex capes while he felt it threw off his balance. Bruce paraded in just the cape and cowl as well, and they got Superman to wear it too. He still had that snapshot. Even sent it as a mysterious email to Barry's nephew for kicks. Wound up on several League fan websites.

Proof Batman still existed, and was friends with Superman.

Bruce begrudgingly let it go, after the third time it was put on the websites. It wasn't a bad picture anyway. And it always made people smile. '_Maybe we can make a SuperBat doll sometime,_' he thought lazily. It was a good distraction if only for a moment.

His thoughts were broken though when the door opened and fresh clothes were tossed onto him. A noonday light poured into the room, barely bearable with Slade's shadow in the doorway. "Get dressed Renegade. You have drills after you've eaten."

'_Renegade?_' Dick dumbly nodded, not saying a thing as he got dressed and left the dark cooler. A new name was worth the trade of open skies, clothes, and the promise of food.

* * *

Selina sipped her midday coffee at the nice little café she found in Ivy Town. A college town with only one hero and he wasn't much. Her search for answers about those cellphones led her there. One snitch she managed to corner in Star said the buyer for the burners' friend mentioned it in passing, getting directions really. This was their next stop. It was the one thing she had solid to go by so far, and confirming to Bruce this was a two man operation was a major leap for them. It had been well over two months since Dick's disappearance and other than a single sign the boy was alive a month ago, they really didn't have anything else to go by.

Two guys, one people were scared to talk about while the other seemed to be okay. Possibly a civilian friend. They took burner phones, scattered them in deposit boxes across the US with preprogramed patterns to hide their location, and then went to Ivy. What for, she didn't know. Other than the college, there really wasn't much to this place. It'd take her a while to get into the darker circles of this place (probably all drug dealers or small timers considering who lived there), but once she was in, they'd find out more about Mr. Napper's plans.

Problem was keeping busy until nightfall. College towns…

* * *

Jason tried to act like a cool cucumber while he waited in police holding. Cool for a thirteen year old who really should be in class right then that is. He didn't break the law per say, just wasn't where he was supposed to be. And ended up walking into a sting operation on accident. At least he wasn't being charged. He really didn't want a juvie record.

"You know," Bruce started as he came into view, a contained frustration in his face, "the call I was expecting about you was supposed to be from your school principal, not a police lieutenant."

"Seriously? You were expecting me to get into trouble?" Jason rolled his eyes, shaking his head. No wonder Dick and he fought so much. No trust.

"You do have a tendency to act out." He sighed heavily, making his point. "I was expecting the things said at school to eventually make you so mad you'd lash out and break a few bones. Suspension for a week, probation for a month, a few lawsuits…" The man shook his head smirking slightly. "Frankly, ditching school and ending up in Crime Alley during a sting operation wasn't anywhere near my expectations. And a much better result than I first anticipated."

A cop came forward, unlocking the cell but jerked back in surprise when Bruce Wayne strode in and sat by his son instead of just taking him way. Even the trouble maker was surprised by his father's actions. "At least I don't have to call a lawyer. Thank you for that."

"You're welcome, and don't count me out on those fights." He grinned impishly, hiding his anxiety for the punishment and lecture he was inevitably going to get. "They just haven't caught me yet."

"Should I be looking for bodies?"

"Nah, not yet. Maybe next week?" He gave a sheepish smile to him, hoping to keep the conversation as light as possible. Didn't help that someone else's parents had just crossed their sight, enraged they were at the precinct as well. Jason looked down and away guiltily as an older teenage boy was dragged by his ear by them, wincing and begging for mercy as they noisily made it past them. Lots of angry yelling about responsibility, ditching, shaming the family, recklessness, followed in their wake.

"I was looking for my friend!" the teen objected in his defense.

"Real friends wouldn't need to be found!"

"You don't know anything about him!"

"Travis! That boy is nothing but a disreputable, good for nothing, runa—"

"Dick isn't a runaway!" That exclamation as he was dragged out the door caught Bruce's full attention. "He wouldn't abandon his friends! He wouldn't leave—"

The door shut behind them, stopping all sound. The CEO looked at the door for a moment, things clicking in place. Pointing at the door, "Who was that?"

"Travis Murdock. One of Dick's friends." The boy kept his eyes on the floor, controlling his voice best he could. His scheme was up.

"Were the two of you together?" Jason nodded mutely. "What were you doing? You wouldn't ditch school to hang out in Crime Alley and I don't think the Murdocks would ever go there." The teen shifted in his seat a bit not looking at him. Bruce's eyes narrowed slightly. "Jason…"

"We were looking for Dick." He pulled his knees under his chin and held onto his legs, still looking at the floor. "We've been looking for any sign of him on the streets for weeks, ditching two classes at a time and making it back before anyone was the wiser. We haven't had much luck."

The man looked over his son, realizing this was partly his fault. Bruce hadn't talked about what he learned about Dick's case lately. Rather, he kept all the information under lock and key. He didn't want to raise any false hopes. Telling them there was progress about all the encouragement he gave his family. He really hated disappointing his children, and for the most part telling Damian he'd be back soon and the others that he would get him back was all they needed. But in Jason's case it seemed to have backfired.

"You wouldn't." Jason jerked around to look at his dad, surprise in his eyes. The man gave him a knowing look before clapping his back. "Let's get to the car. Alfred and Damian can't wait forever and he's worried about you too."

The teen nodded emphatically, leaping out of his seat and near running out the door in order to hear more. Thankfully Bruce had taken care of all the paperwork before seeing his boy, so only the only thing stopping them from leaving were the police caught somewhere between them and the door. A teenager running out of holding didn't normally mean anything good, so of course they reacted badly. One tried to grab him only to be evaded and tripped over his own feet.

The man shook his head, following quickly. "Jason, slow down! They'll think you're a fugitive!"

"Hurry up! I want dinner!" That short banter calmed the cops down, getting out of the way if they were paying attention. And in no time the duo were outside, nearly to the car waiting for them. Jason turned to face his dad before entering, glaring slightly. "What do you mean by 'I wouldn't'? Do you know something?"

"Quite a bit. Inside." He guided the teen into the vehicle, buckling himself in seconds after before nodding to Alfred. "Back to the office I think. I'll call the school and tell them you had a bout of food poisoning and that you wandered away to Leslie's for treatment in a dazed state. That'll take care of them."

"If you insist sir." Alfred's slight disapproval for the idea was evident in his tone as he turned the car back on and took off to rejoin traffic.

"So I'm not in trouble?" His jaw nearly dropped at the concept. Jason never got away with breaking school rules before, if he found out.

"You're still in trouble," Bruce insisted, "but you're still going to school. The last thing we need is rumors of you being a juvenile delinquent. It'll only make those accusations people make more pliable. You're cleaning the cave, no questions. And don't even think about touching the cars. I learned from last time."

"Fine fine." The white locked youth waved it off, more eager to hear something else. Yes he was in trouble, probably grounded, but other things were far more important than that. "So what do you know? Where's Dick? What can I tell people?"

"You can't tell them anything." Before the boy could object, his father raised a hand to silence him. "We only have conjectures off of a few pieces of evidence, that's all. And none of it is in the police or FBI's hands. Saying anything now when all our clues were found in obscure places by the League would only tip off whoever took him.

"What we do know is that Dick is alive. He was kidnapped by an influential man with power in the underworld. Selina still can't get a name. She confirmed there's an accomplice though, likely traveling with them. They're mobile for the most part, having gone through Smallville in a U-Haul. That's where Dick left us proof of life, scratching his R into a bathroom stall door."

Jason laughed, some relief coming to his face. That was such a Dick thing to do. He saw a locker with that R in it at school and inside a couple stalls at school. The guy left his mark when he could. Bruce didn't know about that habit, at least until now. The man's lips twitched as well. "He left a small note there as well, but it was well hidden and didn't give any details, probably in case it was discovered by his captor. I'll show it to you when we get home. Maybe you'll see something I didn't. I'll even let you listen to the testimonial of the clerk who saw him."

"When was this?"

"About a month ago."

"Why didn't you tell us?!" If they weren't in a car, Jason would have leapt to his feet, enraged. They'd waited near two months for anything, and now he was telling him they had proof Dick was alive for nearly half that time?

"Because it hasn't led us anywhere yet and the note was addressed to Cassandra. A birthday note." Bruce's firm voice and face told the boy to settle back down. Damian was startled from his nap in the car and was starting to fuss. He may not understand everything that's happening around him, but he could tell when others were angry, and that upset him. He took a deep breath before continuing, keeping his voice level. "Once we've deciphered whatever clue Dick left behind, I'll give it to her. I'll explain everything once I have something concrete and can promise his return. You know how badly Tim is handling this. He'll expect an immediate rescue after every little bit of information, some grand escape, but I can't give him that. I can't even promise it to myself. Better to hold back and come forward with everything once we have something concrete.

"Jason," he looked into his second eldest son's eyes, trying to show his own tortured feelings over this whole fiasco as he spoke, "we're doing all we can. The League's constantly on alert. After finding the etching, Flash checked every public stall in Central and Keystone on the off chance of there being another one. Superman did the same in Metropolis. Everyone's looking."

"Then why haven't they found him?!" The Justice League could do anything. Batman was the world's greatest detective. And yet Dick was still missing. The faith he had in heroes was starting to diminish. "Where is he?! Why are they still fighting aliens and giant robots and talking gorillas when he's not here?!"

Bruce massaged his brow, exhaustion adding to the tension headache he kept having. A finger brushed under his eye, removing the concealer he used to hide his physical exhaustion. "Because the world keeps turning and the criminals keep scheming. No matter who's missing in our personal lives. Dick knew this. Back when you were in shock, he stepped up and did part of my job for me. He and Kent reminded me over and over again that just because something bad happened to someone I cared about doesn't stop bad things from happening to others. And the League has a duty to the world."

"Keep calm and carry on," Alfred quoted from the driver's seat.

"Exactly. Jason," he leaned forward, looking tiredly into his son's eyes. Damian had quieted and the teen was holding back his raging emotions. He could tell how worn his father was from all of this. "I didn't tell you because I knew you and the others would want what we can't deliver, not yet at least. Despite appearances, we're all mortals who make mistakes and can't grant wishes. We're all investigating from different angles but have other things to do in the meantime. Looking at the case with fresh eyes helps bring clues into a clearer light, but it takes time.

"One false step and we may not ever see him again." He let those words hang in the air and seep into the teenager's head. Jason had to know what was at risk. He could tell from the boy's expression that he was seeing how much of a toll it was taking on his old man. "Do you see why I haven't said anything until now?"

Slowly the teen nodded, some guilt appearing on his face. He looked down and away, frowning to himself. His father sighed heavily. "I'll let you look over everything we have, but until we have a name or a location or even a route he was taken down, I don't want you telling anyone anything. Finding those cameras tipped off the kidnappers already. I don't want them to get spooked any more unless we can herd them to friendly territory. Understood?"

Again the boy nodded, looking further away. As good as it was to be part of a secret and the investigation, he really didn't like how this was going. And his dad could tell. "Jason…"

"I get it, I really do." He leaned his head against the cool glass, watching traffic. "I just don't like it."

"Neither do I." Bruce leaned back in his seat, exhausted and worn, but unable to rest. Alfred had tried to slip him sleeping pills and Jasmine teas to get him to sleep. Neither had worked. At least not to the point where he could actually rest. He doubted that would come until things were settled. "But it's necessary, for now."

"So's a two-by-four," Jason murmured lowly, talking to himself.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

The man decided to let it slide, rubbing his eyes again. It was hard to keep them open. "I'll cover for you this one time, but no more ditching. And I don't want to hear from the principal about fights or missing classes, is that clear?"

"Mhm." The teen kept looking out the window, lost in thought. His brother was missing, his dad was exhausted from searching, they only had so much, and the other three weren't handling it well. Tim was taking it the hardest due to his age and that Dick was his favorite brother. Hell, he was everyone's favorite! Even his. Well, Cass liked Jason and Tim probably a little more, but Dick was clearly what kept his family together for so long. If Damian wasn't three and knew what had happened, he'd be balling his eyes out. In the end they all needed him.

Part of him wondered if his dad was this worn out when Joker…

"Jason, please." The man regained his attention, looking straight into his jade eyes. "Promise me you'll stop ditching classes and you won't start fights."

"Alright, I'll stop ditching. You won't hear anything from the principal, you or Alfred." His father nodded, satisfied. Man he looked tired. Thinking back a year, Jason recalled how he looked right after he recovered from his shocked state. Worn more emotionally than physically. He'd be jealous if the circumstances weren't so far different. But now he was in the same position Dick was back then. How had that guy handled it?

* * *

A/N: From the top! First off, Slade has chosen Dick's code name and will now officially strip him of his previous identity entirely. He won't be calling Dick by his name unless it's dire and will only call him Renegade and Apprentice until the end. If a person in isolation is told they are something or someone for so long, they will start to believe it. Fun times!

Second, Selina's in Ivy Town, which is important. I have mentioned the hero of Ivy Town before by his given name. Kudos to the people who ID the hero and what his role is. I have nothing against college towns (lived in one for a while) but you have to admit very little happens in daylight except classes and managing to keep a roof over your head. that's the end of that.

And lastly, Jason is in on the case! Earlier he and Travis made a deal to look for Dick in their own way and ended up doing this. All they managed to confirm was that the kidnapped by someone outside of Gotham and no one on the streets knew what was going on. Bruce kept the real intel away in order to not give them false hopes, but though that works great with Tim, it didn't with Jason. He needed to know what was going on and how to help. He also needed to know what happened while he was in a comatoast like state the previous year. That story is in DNB, the DITF arc, and in it was a new version of when Jason died in the comics. Clearly he didn't die, but what happened still sent ripples in their life. This story is referenced a lot in here so you should probably read it. Either way, Dick stepped up in that story and now it's Jason's turn. Thing is, Jay doesn't know how he managed it. It's hard to be the oldest when the one who always was goes off for college and stuff. Let's watch him meet the challenge!

Til monday! Please review. I only got two yesterday. T-T


	31. 31 - Rule 2

another rule broken

* * *

**31 - Rule 2**

Sweat dripped in pints down his body, and he had no choice but to let it drop into the gravel beneath him. Dick was beginning to miss the U-Haul. Doing pushups in a handstand wasn't too hard, but very uncomfortable when on rocks. For an hour. He was about to keel over and let the jagged rocks dive into his bare back. Apparently he wasn't allowed a new shirt until he stopped ruining the ones he had. Not his fault every time he went through the woods the thin things would get torn. Cheepo Sladeo couldn't afford quality clothes, but he could afford artillery. Wintergreen was going on a shopping trip that afternoon.

So he was stuck with his slave driving master for the next day or so, alone. Until then, they'd never really been alone. Who knew what the creep had planned.

"Okay... gonna pass out now..."

"Better not." Slade loomed nearby, holding something behind his back. "I have a lot planned for you today. On your feet."

Like all these endurance and strength enhancing exercises before this, he was all too happy to comply. Quickly the acrobat rolled to his feet, kneeling for a moment so he wouldn't see stars when he stood up and to regain his breath. Walking around on his hands in the manor for kicks wasn't near as exhausting as pushups on gravel, nor as painful. Helped those floors had smooth surfaces or carpets.

"I said, on your feet Renegade." There was a touch of impatience in the man's voice, making Dick glare up at him for a moment.

"That's not my name and you know it." Apprentice, Renegade, he was sick of hearing things that weren't his _name_.

"It is as long as I say it is, _Apprentice_." Slade's one eye narrowed dangerously. A hand went to his belt, taking out the trigger for him to see. The teen tensed, having not seen it physically in... at least a month. His stomach clenched seeing it again. The threat he hated most was still there. "On your feet."

Clenching his jaw, the teen left his crouch, glaring at the offending device. Blood pumped through his ears, blocking all reason inside him as he launched himself at the trigger. Slade must have anticipated this and easily sidestepped his attack. A steel toed boot stuck out and tripped him while an elbow struck him between the shoulders, slamming him into the ground. Fresh cuts and bruises formed on his chest and arms, forcing him to cry out in pain.

"Poor move Apprentice." The chiding tone in the man's voice grated on Dick's nerves. Oh how he hated this man. His next sentence reminded him of his fear as well. "Continue to make poor calls and you'll be spending the night in the Cooler. Get on your feet and stand at attention. We're restarting a part of your training."

Chills ran down his back while his blood boiled, a very odd and frustrating sensation to say the least, but he tried to push it all aside as he shoved himself off the ground. Yeah, that was a bad idea. Where was he going to go again? Not like he could get into the radio room in the bunker. Tried twice, failed twice. Second time he was electrocuted. This attempt to get the trigger only gave him more cuts and bruises.

Wiping some blood off his chin, Dick turned to his master and did his best to "stand at attention" while controlling his temper and anxiety. Could not stop glaring at the madman to save his life. Didn't seem to faze the assassin one drop. All Slade did was eye him with some disappointment. Definitely not getting off on a half-naked kid with a boatload of wounds, but the teen did his best not to be tempting.

Slade raised an eyebrow at him when he didn't stayed silent. "Not going to ask what we're doing next?"

"Does it matter?" The bitterness in the teen's voice spoke plenty. It wasn't like he had a choice what happened next after all.

A smirk crossed the man's face. "No, I guess not. This way."

He motioned the boy to follow after him, marching to a more isolated part of the campsite. The acrobat followed grudgingly, only slightly curious what was going to happen next. Slade had been working on something while he was working on his muscles the past couple days, something to complete the project Wintergreen's been doing while they were training. He seemed to trust Dick not to do anything drastic while he was elsewhere. Little did Slade know that bat carvings and etches were appearing on fallen trees and rocks. Anything to remind the young man of home.

Before the lad knew it, they were in a manmade clearing, one with painted targets spread around the area. An old stump held a variety of knives, an archery set, and even a throwing axe. The only kind of projectile he wasn't seeing there was a...

His stomach started to churn again. His master was leading up to the real lesson. Dick used every ounce of self-control he had to not show signs of weakness right then. If Slade learned any of his tells, he'd never be able to keep the secrets he held. He had to be strong.

"I can assume you know what's coming Renegade." The assassin gave him a slight smile, careful not to expose his back. The trigger was away, but there was no clue what the man held behind his back. "I need to see just how good you are at throwing weapons again before we can continue. Throw the knives, then the axe, at the targets. When you run out, I'll make my decision and move on. Begin."

Clenching his teeth for a moment, Dick picked up one large knife and asked an obvious question. "Are you sure about this? These are sharp, pointy objects after all. What's going to stop me from killing you with one?"

The question seemed to make Slade laugh. He smirked knowingly, leaning forward some. "Simply put, you are. You're too honorable to kill a man, any man. Regardless of what he's done to anyone." He inclined his head to the targets once again, nudging him on. "Now, begin."

To prove his point, the assassin turned his back on him and walked over to another stump to sit and watch. Grudgingly Dick watched him walk away, knowing he was right. He couldn't kill the man, no matter how much he hated him. Not after what happened with... The teen shook his head to clear it, picking up a small throwing knife. May as well get this over with.

Knowing he'd shown some of his skills already on the video, there was no point in hiding how good he was at throwing. He started by throwing a bull's-eye on the one twenty yards away, then on the thirty, then forty. Each were perfectly aligned on their targets. The one at fifty yards was a centimeter low and the sixty two too high, but still in the zone. The furthest one was seventy yards away and he was barely within the center circle. Each knife was deep inside their targets, proving he could throw farther than the course allowed. Done showing off, he looked back to the man on the stump, waiting for the next task.

Slade raised a critical eyebrow. "There's still some left."

Rolling his eyes, Dick picked up the next knife and started picking odder locations to hit. It didn't take very long for him to prove he could hit any target with precision under any circumstance with any item. He even chucked a rock at one of them after running out of weapons. The arrows were crude and the bow was feeble, but he still hit the target exactly in the same locations on each of them. Out of ammunition, he looked back to his master, silently asking him 'what's next?'

The assassin got off his stump and inspected every target. The lad waited impatiently for the man to finish and criticize his work. The impassive way he examined each one unnerved him a bit, but not much more than usual. After an agonizing ten minutes of silence, the man returned to his apprentice, his face still unreadable. That is, until there was a hint of a smile on his face. "Well done. I take it you learned how to throw knives at the circus."

Dick nodded, letting that be the only answer. "Yeah, Pete taught me. Thought it was fun and kept it up."

"Archery?"

"P.E." Not really a lie, but not entirely true either. Both Bruce and Oliver Queen taught him how to shoot an arrow. Bruce taught him first of course, but he wanted a professional archer to teach him too, and it paid off. It was shortly after Ollie learned the truth about the Waynes, little over a year ago. Needless to say, the archer was glad someone wanted to learn from him (he and Roy weren't talking much). Hal was pretty happy to teach him some piloting (and a little hotwiring and driving) back in the day too, but both their lessons were kept hidden from Bruce. Dick knew he'd throw a jealous fit. Really that man was pretty possessive around the Leaguers.

Slade nodded in satisfaction. "I see. Clear the targets. Put everything the way you found them."

"Yes sir." He strode past the man, catching his ever so slightly growing smirk as he went. Looked like the madman was more satisfied than he initially let on. Must have been the 'sir'.

Trying to ignore it, the teen pulled each of the weapons from the targets without too much difficulty. Some were in deeper than he thought, but none too bad. A couple shallow nicks and short trips to and from the stump, all the knives were restored to where they began. The arrows were next, stabbed into the ground next to the knives, shortly followed with the axe being tossed into the stump's base. Everything was collected. "What now?"

"Do it again."

Slade strode past him without another look, stepping back to the stump he was sitting on earlier. Dick gaped at him for a long moment before clenching his teeth and retaking his position with the knives. Like before, he threw each weapon with pinpoint accuracy. Each shot from the bow hit exactly where he wanted them to. He wasn't sure if he should even bother with the axe but did it anyway. It took less time to empty his arsenal but it didn't make him feel any better.

When done, the assassin took another look around and nodded his approval. "Again," was all he said, giving all the instruction the teen needed. Taking a deep breath, he again gathered the weapons and took aim at the targets. They repeated this seven times, making Dick's shoulders and wrists very sore and his hands nearly covered in minor cuts.

"I've seen enough." The knives and arrows were already gathered and ready to go again, some of them with blood on them. That seemed to satisfy the sadist in front of him for some sick reason, and now he was moving on. "Your aim is excellent and there is little to teach you here. You need to work on not cutting yourself though. What will people think?"

Dick spared him an exasperated glare, not really interested in the creep's sarcasm. "I'm not used to using random knives like that."

"But you do throw plates."

He scowled at the man for bringing up Halloween again. "I prefer disks and boomerangs. Or close quarters."

"So it appears." His master smirked as he took something from the small of his back. "Today you will learn how to use a new weapon. One you should already be familiar with."

Dick tensed as the gun he was given appeared, taking an unconscious step back. He wasn't really scared of the thing, but what it was meant to be used for. Half his life with Bruce kinda brainwashed him to hate the thing. Learning how to use one would be like the ultimate betrayal. His stomach twisted over and over again at the thought. He was going to learn how to shoot, whether he liked it or not.

But what choice did he have? Slade had the trigger on him and bombs in his family. Then there was the hose, the cooler, and whatever else Slade had up his sleeves. He couldn't beat him, ever.

"You really shouldn't be afraid of a simple tool Renegade." The assassin displayed the weapon so he could see it properly, explaining it. "It is a small projectile device, easily controlled when one knows what they are doing. And it's not hard to learn. All you need to do is remember some simple rules first.

"Are you ready?"

The boy just stared at the weapon, his stomach twisting with every word. He felt sick just looking at it. How could he ever even consider... '_Policemen use guns,_' he reminded himself. '_It's required to learn at the academy. Even if Bruce doesn't like them... good people still use them. Just... think of it as cop training. You'd have to get over this someday Grayson. May as well be now._'

"Does it matter?"

His answer made his master smirk. "No, it doesn't.

"Now first rule is obvious: always treat a gun as if it's loaded, even when you know it's not. Second: only point it at your target. When not in use, point it at the ground where it won't hurt anyone and have your trigger finger along the barrel so it won't discharge. And lastly: be certain of your target before firing. You don't want any unnecessary damages when you squeeze the trigger. It wastes bullets and causes a mess. This is where target practice comes into play. Remember these rules and you won't have any trouble using any firearm.

"Now," Slade came to his right hand side and placed the pistol in his hands, "let's talk about how to hold a pistol."

He slid next to him, positioning the teen's hands carefully around the weapon and the rest of his body to safely absorb the jolt from firing. Dick just let him, focusing on not throwing up and feeling guilty for completely breaking rule 2: have nothing to do with guns of any sort, and especially don't use them.

* * *

Wintergreen watched the two work from a distance, slightly surprised that his old friend was letting the boy use real bullets on his first day with a gun. Richard looked quite pale while using it, but other than that seemed to be doing alright. Well, alright being he was shooting the targets on his first day with an issued handgun with Slade hovering over his shoulder instructing him.

"Focus with your dominant eye. Align your sights and narrow in on your target Apprentice."

"I'm trying," came the lad's reply, swallowing back something as he fired another shot. He flinched each time a bullet went off, hurting his aim. That was an obstacle he'd have to overcome if he wanted to improve.

"You wouldn't miss if you kept your eyes open," Slade snapped, growing impatient.

"I'm hitting the target aren't I?" A smart reply and a glare flew from the teen as he tried, yet again, to appease his master.

"Real targets aren't that large."

"If I may sir," the older man objected, making his voice heard, "it's probably time he took a break. His hands are bleeding after all and we don't want him to get an infection."

Both looked at him in surprise for a moment, then to the young man's hands. There were quite a few small cuts with drying blood and sore welts oozing red where he was gripping the glock. They must have been at this for quite some time because neither of them seemed to notice the condition of his hands until then.

The mercenary nodded after a moment and took the firearm from the teen. "Go get your hands treated and wrapped. You've mastered the basics. We'll work on the rest later."

Slade walked away from his apprentice, fully intending to move on to the next task. Richard though was staring at his hands, becoming even paler. William Wintergreen never saw anyone turn so pale and shake like that outside of the field. It was as if the lad was seeing the results of his first kill on his hands. His blood covered hands.

He was petrified.

"Slade..." The older man caught his friend's eye and inclined his head to the young man unable to move. The assassin looked back curious for a moment, then glared in frustration.

"Apprentice." He caught the boy's attention, jerking him out of his traumatized state momentarily. "Get going."

"Y... Yes sir." The weak shaking in his voice worried the old ex-military men for a moment. Richard was hardly able to move on his own, stiff and shaking as he tried to return to camp.

"You may want to take care of those hands yourself," Wintergreen instructed his companion. "I don't know what you had him do to get in that state, but I'd advise not repeating it."

"I was breaking a preset mentality Wayne gave him concerning guns," Wilson responded in his defense. "It's not my fault he's having difficulty getting around leftist propaganda."

"And the blood on his hands?"

The man shrugged, moving towards camp after the boy. "May have been excessive, but he may as well get used to the sight. It'll be common when he learns how to hunt."

Wintergreen shook his head in some frustration but followed after them. If the boy didn't get used to handling a basic handgun, he'd never be able to manage another firearm. This was going to be a hard lesson for him to learn; harder to learn for him than the new recruits back in the day. Not for the first time he questioned Slade's choice in apprentices, and he doubted it'd be the last.

* * *

A/N: Yeah my views on guns is simple: I don't like them because they're noisy, jam too easy, and anyone can use them in a wrong matter, BUT, they are tools that if used correctly are very useful. I'm not against them, I'm not for them. I prefer swords. Bruce though hates them so that's what we're going with. DIck would have to learn how to use one eventually when he went into the academy, so that's the only think making this alright in his head. Wintergreen's evaluation of it all seemed appropriate too.

Oh, I learned how to use a gun from this awesome website called the art of manliness. Google it. It has some awesome advice and articles supposedly for men, but I absolutely love it. I learned how to tie a tie and use a gun from this website. It's so awesome.

This week's gonna have a lot of training and may leave you in tears by the end. And a little FYI to drivers at night/early morning, if you even think you've hit something on the road, stop, turn around and check it out. I've been hit by drivers twice this year and neither have stopped to see if I was okay. The second time was this morning so I'm a bit miffed. Whatev. Laters.


	32. 32 - Dead Ends

This leads to a chapter I really really liked. Enjoy!

* * *

**32 - Dead Ends**

Selina didn't like dealing with fences she didn't know. She didn't like not having something on someone either. But she was long outside her comfort zone. Ivy Town was nowhere near Gotham and had fewer connections to the criminal world than most. Normally she'd have nothing to do with this drab college town, but this is where her information led, and she had to follow.

It took quite a while to locate and integrate with the college town's criminal element (very small one at that) and even longer to find this guy. The fence she found happened to be the only one in Ivy (how she hated small towns), and hadn't been in business too long. From what she learned from the "casual" conversation they had at the bar, he'd only been in business for the past year because there wasn't much of a market. Thieving college students mostly sold off their prizes to pawn shops. It was only when someone filched something big from the school that he was in business.

"Ya see," Carlos muddled through his drunken speech (Bruce was going to love the bill for the alcohol it took to drown this rat), "Ivy University just got an infwax... influx... more money... from some bigwig out east. Better equipment, better fundin'. Some genius or another works here and... well he's making big promises. Some say he's payin' off too. But with them hittin' it big," a sloppy grin grew on his face, "I'm gettin' some good stuff."

"Fascinating." '_Boring! Get to the good stuff already you drunken lard!_' Selina knew this guy knew something. Every fence she ever met knew what was going on in their part of the underworld. If anyone big rolled into town to do business, he was sure to know it.

"The sad thin' is," he finally blubbered, "when people are only interested in blueprints." The man laughed bitterly, sighing in defeat. "One night... I sell some old guy some blueprints of the college, and the next there's a fire all over the medical science division. So much equipment lost... all that money..."

"The school... burned..." That was news. She saw a bunch of construction workers there and on the streets earlier, but no one told her what happened. "When was this?"

"November, I think." Carlos took a shot of whiskey, then motioned to her to refill the glass. Despite it being demeaning, she did so anyway. November... That was when the cellphones were stolen too. He shook his head as he reprimanded himself. "If I knew the guy was gonna raze the place after breakin' in, I'd never have sold 'em the plans."

"Are you certain it was arson?" She heard of it before. Some thefts were covered up through violence or arson, making a bigger crime to hide a smaller one. It lacked the grace of her craft, but it did a fine job of masking the more volatile ones. And coming from a university medical lab, the items that could be sold on the black market could be just that. Isotopes, medical equipment, all sorts of goodies in there if used right. Still, accidents did happen.

"Oh yeah." He smirked as he raised his glass once again. "It's all over the campus. The fire guys slipped and said they found exerant... accelerant all over the place. Said one of the electrical lines in there was cut and the whole place sparked up. Kablooee!" He slapped the counter hard, attempting to make it dramatic. "After that... no one could tell what was there and what wasn't. So much lost..."

"Hmm... I know the feeling." This lead seemed rather odd and shaky for the moment, but it was all she had. No one else she had talked to in town spoke of two male out of towners who made contact with them. Carlos mentioned spotting a second man not too far off, but mostly he dealt with the one, old man. Everyone who lived after the deals, saw the one guy and spotted the other from a distance. Still no names, but plenty of non-traceable bills. "So... what did this guy look like again?"

"I dunno... old... white... military... bit taller than me... wore a suit... He said his name was Bill, but I think he was lyin'." He lolled his head around to give her a sloppy grin. "Why? Fire starters turn you on?"

Selina gave him a grudging smile. Slime. "Let's just say, it takes a lot to light my fire. Just... tell me. Did you hear where they were planning on going next?"

"Nope. Didn' ask." The guy's eyes were starting to droop. "Yeh know? You're real pretty."

"Yes I am. How about a name for a pyrotechnic. They can't just start something like that without help."

"Yer better off askin' some college kid," came his slur. She didn't have a lot of time before the guy drank himself under the table. "They're... they're all a bunch of whack jobs. I'm just the middle man."

"The middle man with the plans."

"That's right... Hey..." He loomed near her face, trying to be sexy. He had nothing on her knights. "Wanna... shoot a couple of high rollers?"

"Depends?" She gave him a sultry look in response, teasing him for her own enjoyment. "How high do you roll? Because I don't go for anything less than a quarter mill."

"Whoa..." The guy slumped where he was, laughing to himself. "I got me a real dame here! Heh heh heh..."

"You've got nothing I haven't seen before." Eyeing the cretin before her (how she missed Gotham and all the higher class fences there) now passed out on the bar, she shook her head. '_Arson at the college targeting the one part of the school with the most expensive equipment... either someone had a grudge or was hiding something. I need to find out what was in that lab._'

Course that meant integrating with the staff or the students for a bit to get the list. Internally she groaned as she left the bar. If only she could hack computers. College towns just sucked.

* * *

If Dick was honest with himself, he wasn't feeling well. He hadn't felt well all day. He couldn't finish breakfast even after earning it. That match took fifteen minutes before he could even land a decisive hit; whether Slade went easy on him or not at the last minute was up for debate. His morning exercises took longer than normal and his balance was a little off. During gun practice, he wasted two clips missing his mark, hitting the far trees and a few animals. His master joked about making his first kill.

"Looks like we're having squirrel meat tonight. Are you fond of them?" The teen just glared at him, shaking his head to clear it. He was misinterpreted by the man, making that move an answer. "How about birds? You managed to shoot a-"

"Don't care!" Both his bandaged hands flew to his ears to block out what else he accidentally killed. The other night the assassin had taken him out for night hunting. He killed six bats and wounded one. When they got to the wounded one, Slade ordered him to kill it and put it out of its misery. It was one order he could not follow, even if he wanted to. He was too far in shock from the sight to do anything.

Slade ended up snapping its neck. Dick spent the night in the cooler for his disobedience. He still hadn't gotten out of it mentally.

He should have known from the way his master was looking at him that the next exercise was going to do him in. He was going to make him care. Around noon they were marching around the valley towards a region Dick hadn't been to before. It was on the other side of the outpost, opposite the side they usually dropped him off at to "find his way home". He had to carry a heavy pack that jingled the entire way, not stopping for what had to be two hours. His head and feet were pounding when they made it to level ground again, his back aching from the weight being carried all that distance.

His master said nothing the entire way. Not that he asked him what was going on anymore, but sometimes he gave lessons as they hiked places. Identifying local plants, pointing out tracks, reminding him how to hide in foliage, things like that. This time, nothing. The teen had to carefully avoid the ivy and keep aware of the cougar tracks nearby, along with a snake pit. How he was hating the moderate temperature of the climate right then. Weathering in Florida while with Haly's was great, but the latitude he was at was entirely different. How he wished it was Florida right then.

"We're here."

Jerked out of his thoughts, Dick looked around and blinked in surprise. Before them was a lake. Where did that come from? It had to be the size of a football field at least, maybe including the stands and parking lot if he pushed it. He couldn't determine exactly where it was in relation to the mountains around them or the camp, but did know this had to be where their water was coming from. He could see a manmade dam down the shore controlling the flow towards where they came from. Mountains were still in view, so they hadn't reached a peak. Other rivers must feed this place. It was a fairly pretty sight to see.

"Get in the boat." Slade snapped him out of his thoughts again, taking the bag off his back. The teen blinked at him in confusion for a minute before registering what he was saying. Boat. Right. Quick as he could, Dick looked around for the boat and saw it on the shore about thirty feet away. Not wanting to anger the man any more than he had already (repeatedly freezing at every animal death he saw had to be frustrating the man), he marched on over and climbed into the small fishing boat there.

The assassin soon followed, tossing the bag into the boat with a rattling thunk before taking a dark strip of cloth out of his pocket. Dick looked at him and it with trepidation. What was the man planning? "Put this over your eyes."

"Why?"

"To make certain you don't cheat." Confusion controlled the lad's face, making the man smirk almost mockingly. "Put it on."

Glaring his confusion, the teen took the blindfold and wrapped it around his head while his taskmaster pushed the boat into the water. He didn't get to see him hop inside and start rowing the oars, but he could feel it in the rocking of their little ship. Dread filled his empty stomach as they got further out, possibilities filling his mind with each passing moment. What was Slade going to do to him now? Wintergreen wasn't there to talk him out of anything. What was in the bag? What was he planning? His head really started to hurt as nightmare scenarios filled his thoughts.

"What... what are we going to do?" he dared to ask, struggling to keep his voice calm. Wasn't working. He could hear the oars leave the water, telling him they were there.

"Nothing so dramatic Renegade." He could hear the bag he carried all that time being unzipped, then the clanking of heavy chains. "Just a simple exercise. You've proven you're good with locks. Blindfolded. I'm just adding another level to the challenge."

'_Crap!_' On instinct, Dick leapt to his feet, reaching to his blindfold so he could see clearly and escape. There was no way he was letting Slade chain him up and throw him in a lake! Just as he was ripping it off, a strong grip took his wrist and twisted his arm into submission. The teen cried out in pain as he was sent to his knees on that rocky boat. "Let me go!"

"I don't think so _Apprentice_." He could feel thick cuffs snapping around the caught wrist and cringed as his arm was twisted again to meet the other one. Both wrists stuck together with mere inches between them, he knew the only way out of it was by picking the lock. He still had that bit of wire, somehow salvaged from the washing and tossed clothes he went through, but he didn't know if it'd work on these locks. He didn't have a chance to get a look at them. More and more dread filled him as shackles made it to his ankles, and other chains wrapped around his legs, keeping them close together. He was trapped.

"You need to learn respect," Slade ranted, "and how to survive. You can't expect to be saved by anyone. I decide whether you live or die only half the time. If you want to live this time, it's up to you." He roughly turned the teen about and grabbed him by his shirt, lifting the struggling boy to his feet. His breath hissed against his ear, making Dick's skin crawl. "Get to shore on your own power. And don't forget to breathe Renegade."

Dick nearly cried out as he was lifted up and thrown out of the boat, but managed to gulp down enough air before crashing into the icy water. Pins and needles struck through his skin as the liquid soaked through him, chilling him inside and out. Fear broke free of its barriers, making him struggle against his bonds desperately for a minute. This could not be happening!

'_Calm down._'

'_Bruce!_' His mind screamed out, begging for that voice to be real, but it was all in his head. '_Bruce! Save me!_'

'_Calm down Dick. Slow your heartbeat and conserve your energy._' The voice in his head seemed so real, instructing him in exactly what to do to get out of this. '_You'll run out of air if you struggle._'

'_I can't! I-_'

'_If you keep saying that you'll never get out of this. Now calm down. Remember your training._'

For a brief moment, he could recall working on his locks and cuffs when he was younger. Bruce had talked to him about underwater escapes. There were a few rules he remembered, ones he said may save his life in any scenario. First was to calm down.

Carefully, Dick slowed his heartbeat. It was almost at a manageable level when his feet reached silt. His ears weren't bursting quite yet, so he couldn't be more than ten feet down. Now in control of himself, he focused on what he could do. He could get out of this. He would.

Worming his hands into his jean's back pocket, he managed to worm out the wire he kept ahold of. Carefully, he tucked one tip into an exposed lock on his wrist and pushed all the internal hammers aside. One wrist free, he worked on the other one, keeping a tight grip on the wire. When that lock went away, he ripped off the blindfold and got a good look at his legs and feet. His lungs were burning and he wasn't sure if he could unlock those before he had to breathe again. The chains were pretty heavy.

He took a quick look around, glad the water was clear and shallow. Sand and silt in every direction, some slanting towards darker waters while others to better lighting. That way to shore. Working his legs like a mermaid, he swam towards shore, more specifically to a large rock between him and it. He barely managed to get to that rock and climb on top before he couldn't hold his breath anymore. Pulling himself on top, he managed to break the surface and gasp for sweet air. Air, finally.

Panting heavily, Dick looked around to see if he could make it to shore the way he was right then. His eyesight was starting to darken, but he did see how far he'd have to swim to get there. Pretty far. "Well that's peachy."

Shaking his head for a moment, he leaned against the bolder he was holding on to, desperately catching his breath. His head hurt so badly and he knew he'd pass out before reaching shore if he kept swimming the way he had. Best thing he could do was get those chains off his legs and dead man's float the rest of the way back. The very tired and aching acrobat rested against the rock for a minute or two more before reaffirming his grip on the wire, taking a deep breath, and going back to his chains.

The locks keeping his legs and feet together weren't difficult really, but shaking them off took longer than he liked. He knocked his head against the bolder before surfacing, giving him a nice head wound to match his horrible headache. Gasping for breath, he clung to the solid mass for a good minute more than intended, hoping the dizziness would leave him soon. "Oh there better not be any piranhas in this lake..."

He looked around once again, reaffirmed the direction he needed to go before launching off his safe haven. He could almost see Slade's boat on the far shore making him glare at the man once again. If he wanted those chains back, he was out of luck. That good for nothing hell spawn...

"Breathe Grayson. Breathe..." Slowly the acrobat closed his eyes, aimed his back towards the closest shoreline, and pushed off his stone for good measure. It didn't take much to relax his body and float in the general direction he wanted. It took a lot more to stay conscious while doing so. He didn't even realize he was close to shore until sand hit his head.

Feeling it, Dick jerked awake, placed one hand on the ground beneath him, and turned his body around to push himself to his feet. Without warning both legs cramped up, jabbing knives up his calves. "Ah! Ow... That hurts... Okay... scrap walking. Let's try crawling. Gotta get out of the water."

Stubbornly, the teen pushed himself to his hands and knees, crawling onto the dry shore. He managed to get halfway to the tree line before he completely passed out, pain from his body and head overriding his willpower at long last. He could go no further.

* * *

"WILL!" Slade shouted at the top of his lungs for assistance as soon as he reached basecamp, carrying a very chilled and feverish apprentice on his back. Richard was not waking up. "WILL!"

"Coming!" The older man hurried towards him, confused then alarmed as he came closer. "What happened?"

"He passed out after completing the underwater escape exercise." Worry was taking over his features. It didn't make sense. The lake was on the cooler side sure, but it wasn't cold enough to make a person ill. He tested it in late January when they arrived. It'd only get warmer from then. The part of the lake he was thrown into was just under ten feet deep, a safe spot for the exercise. Richard had proven he was an apt swimmer in previous exercises. Why did he pass out like that? "And he's not waking up."

Wintergreen felt the lad's neck and face, his eyes widening with every second. The boy's eyes flickered open and closed every few seconds and he breathed heavily through his mouth. "He has a fever. A bad one at that. We need to get him inside and into some dry clothes. Now."

Knowing the urgency, the two rushed into the compound to take care of the unconscious boy. How he got so ill without their noticing was a mystery to be sure, but making certain he survived this was their top priority. Training would wait, at least until he was capable of following orders once again.

* * *

A/N: Yep, DIck is sick. Poor baby! XD Slade's never dealt with a kid this sick before so he's playing by ear and freaking out. And as Dick's feverish, he's starting to hear voices and hallucinate. Over all he's starting to hear voices. Some of them have pretty good ideas. =P Couldn't help it. As for Selina, I just dont' think she cares about college towns. I learned from Numb3rs that medical and scientific equipment from colleges sells really well on the black market and arson is great for covering up crimes, so that's what happened in Ivy Town. Fun times!


	33. 33 - Much Wanted Dreams

Get your tissues.

* * *

**33 - Much Wanted Dreams**

Everything hurt. Inside and out. Hot and cold, antsy and tired, and everything blurred together. His head and stomach kept competing for who was worse off. It didn't really matter who won. Either way he lost. Voices all around him told him to relax, get up, rest, smile, play with him, get ready for practice, eat something, don't forget his coat, slow down… so many voices. He swore he saw his long dead parents at least twice, telling him to hold strong or to just let the pain take over and join them. So many voices…

How long had he been sick? Felt like days. But there was some advantage to being sick. For once he wasn't being punished or threatened for not completing something. Yes his body was in agony and he couldn't think straight, but he was in a warm, secure bed and he knew no one would make him leave it until he was well again.

Dick heard Slade and Wintergreen talking earlier, something about medicine and having to leave for a few hours. He didn't quite understand everything that was said as his ears started ringing part way through the discussion, but he knew his captor was going to be gone for a bit. If only he wasn't so weak and delirious from the infection he gained. Well, he thought it was an infection. Wintergreen said something about changes in altitude, stress, physical exertion, possibly food poisoning… either way he was sick, bed ridden even. Even if Deathstroke was going to be gone for a while and left the trigger behind, he was in no condition to search for it and escape.

Besides, he was in the middle of nowhere, maybe Mexico. Where was he going to run? He couldn't run fast enough or far enough from that man to save himself, let alone his family.

His family…

Tears ran down his face as he remembered them. He could vaguely remember talking to memories of them, hallucinations even. Damian was the one putting damp rags on his forehead while Jason sat on his stomach. Something about Tim's voice was off and Cass had run around in a pink tutu, laughing like the Joker. And a stoic Alfred painted neon orange had offered him some worms. Bruce and his parents were talking about coffins and gravestones once too. And those weren't even half of them, just the interesting ones he remembered. They were always easier to latch on to.

Lying on his back again, Dick tried to stem the flowing tears. They weren't helping his headache and he really couldn't lose any more water. He blinked a little slower, letting his vision blur a little more, only to focus on an image appearing next to him. "Bruce?"

"Dick!" A worn out Bruce Wayne locked eyes with his, taking him in. The man looked caught somewhere between elated relief, and horrified worry. He swiftly came to his side, sitting on the side of the bed as a string of question came from his lips. "What happened to you? Are you alright? How are they treating you? Please! Tell me what's going on!"

The ill teen just blinked at him for a minute before smiling and laughing a little. Bruce could be such a mother hen! A couple tears rolled down his cheeks, so happy to hear his voice again. "Wow… you sound so real."

"I am real." The man placed a hand on the boy's head, trying to brush back his bangs and feel his temperature, but nothing happened. He hadn't added any weight to the bed either. As much as Dick wanted him to be real, he knew he couldn't be. But that didn't matter. Bruce came for him and he was worried. He seemed even sadder with his hand on the lad's head, pained he could do nothing.

But the teenager laughed weakly, still crying a bit. His stomach was even relaxing a little thanks to this visit. "I'm sick and in the middle of nowhere. Last time you were here, so were my parents."

Bruce sighed heavily, brushing his hand over the boy's face affectionately. "I guess so. You look horrible. Where are you? We're looking everywhere for you."

At this he burst into guilty tears, making his long time father figure lean forward in worry. He tried to reach out and hold him, but his hand passed through the boy. All he could do was watch him cry. Dick whimpered as he tried to talk. "I don't know anymore! I… I tried to keep track, but… I lost track after Mexico!"

"Mexico?" The boy nodded weakly, barely able to compose a thought. He really did try. On those rare occasions he sat in front and could see the scenery he tried to memorize what kinds of license plates went past them. The most frequently seen ones told him what state he was in, but it wasn't very often that he saw a town sign. "Through Kansas?"

"You saw it?" The mark he left in that Smallville stall, his circled R. A spark of hope filled his chest.

"I have the door with me." Bruce tried to give him a reassuring smile. "We got your note too. Dick, who took you? Who started all this? Tell me who's keeping you here."

Dick's eyes widened, terrified at the question, before a new wave of tears started. "I can't… I can't… He'll kill them! He'll kill… anyone I talk to. I can't… I don't want them hurt… he'll hurt them… he hurt her… he'll hurt them! Can't let that happen. Can't let him kill—"

"Shh…" Seeing his terror, the man put his hands on his boy's, trying to comfort him. But again his hands passed through his, causing the hallucination more pain. He couldn't help. "It's alright Dick, just calm down. No one's getting hurt here. Everything's fine. Everyone's safe."

"No one's safe." The teen covered his eyes with his hands, hating his weakness and his tears. "Not unless I stay with him. I stay, I obey, they'll be safe. But if I stay…" Tears and sobs took over him again, gaining more worry from the espier before him.

"He's going to make me kill."

The words hung in the air between them, freezing the room. Dick would have seen the horror on Bruce's face if he hadn't held onto his eyes and head harder. "He… He wants me to be like him! He wants to make me… a… a killer! Training me… every day! Taught me… a gun… I don't want to! I want to go home!"

He let go of his head, no longer fighting his tears as he desperately looked into his adoptive father's face. "I wanna go home! Bruce you gotta get me home! You've gotta save them! He'll hurt them if I leave! He'll hurt everyone! And it'll be my fault! It's all my fault! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

"Dick…"

"It's all my fault. You told me not to and I did anyway. I'm sorry! Don't hate me! Please don't hate me!"

"Dick!" Desperately the man raised his voice to get his attention. "There is nothing to be sorry for! This isn't your fault!"

"But it is!" It burned inside him, the knowledge that he did this to himself. "If I hadn't shown off… If I had behaved… They wouldn't be in danger if I was good and did what you said. You were right. I was such a brat! If I just listened to you and been good, none of this would have happened! They're in danger because of me! I let you down Bruce. I'm sorry! I'm so sorry… I'm such a bad boy. A royal pain in the ass. I'm sorry Bruce… I'm sorry…"

"That's enough." Stern correction entered the man's voice, cutting off all argument like it normally did. Now he had his son's attention. They were looking straight into each other's eyes, one's softening as the other's begged for comfort and security. Dick was hurting so much, and not just because of the fever. "It doesn't matter whose fault it is or if this could have been prevented. What matters now is correcting it. You can explain your theories and doubts after I get you home. And you will come home, I swear it. We will find you and we will save you. We'll save everyone. But I need you to stay strong and calm down. Nothing can be achieved if you lose your head like this. Like Alfred keeps telling us lately, 'keep calm and carry on'."

"I rather call Batman." The automatic attempt at humor made his father smile slightly.

"Not Superman?"

"Clark is cool," he murmured, "But he's not you." The boy shifted in the bed trying to get closer to him. "You promise? You're going to save them? You'll stop him and find me? Before he makes me kill?"

"I promise, I will find you. I'll take care of everything."

"You're not mad at me?" Some comfort floated into his chest, taking away the guilt and stress he'd been feeling. It was good to hear these words.

Bruce shook his head. "I'm not mad. Just worried and concerned."

"You don't hate me?" Dick whimpered slightly, praying for the one thing that'll help him through this, at least until he could be brought home.

"Never. I love you more than you could possibly imagine. We all do, and nothing that man does is going to change that." Gently he brushed his hand over the boy's cheek, and he could almost feel it, taking comfort in the words and the contact. The darkness inside the boy lessened as he looked up lovingly at his second father. A smile returned to his lips, tears finally subsiding. "You mean the world to us, all of us. Jason's ditched school to find you, Tim started a fight because someone insulted you, and I've had to use a grapple to retrieve Damian from that alcove of his. Cass and Alfred seem to be holding it together, but you know how they are. They're better at hiding their feelings, and keeping busy. Your sister's even teaching Tim how to fight."

"Really?" Dick sunk deeper into the bed, tension leaving him as he heard the reports on his family. He didn't need to know how Bruce was handling it. Just looking at his face and seeing how much weight and sleep he lost told him enough. He fared better when Jason was hurt.

The man nodded, giving him a sad gentle smile, glad his boy was calming down. "Really. When you come back, he'll want to show you everything he's learned. May even want you to help him with his acrobatics again."

"I'd like that."

"I know." He kept running a hand over his child's face in a soothing motion. "Jason's helping with the case now. Maybe he'll be able to decipher that cryptic clue you left us in Smallville. Dick, couldn't you tell us who took you? Just something to narrow down the search, to find you faster."

The lad hesitated, tensing from his slowly relaxing state. He swallowed and looked down, guilty. "I… I can't… Bruce he's evil. He's killed so many and no one's caught him and—"

"Shh…" Seeing his growing fear after calming down, his father tried to change tactics. "Okay, you don't have to tell me."

"He'll kill them if I talk," Dick murmured, trying to calm his heart again. Vaguely he could recall another time when he had a fever and Bruce had done this. He didn't leave his side until he was in the clear. "He'll press the button and that'll be the end of it."

"Button?" His boy nodded. "Have you tried taking it?"

Again he nodded and frowned. "Dislocated my shoulder one time trying. I'm not a good pickpocket like Jason or Selina."

"Or Tim at the rate he's going." That gained a short laugh, making the man smile slightly. "Never thought it'd be a useful thing to teach you before. Should have known better."

"He's fast," Dick murmured, his body relaxing again despite talking about the person he hated and feared most. "Not Flash fast, but fast. Strong too. We're using military bases and outposts, all abandoned and isolated. When we're not moving that is. We've been here a while though. Don't know when we're moving again."

"Can you make a sign so we can find you from above?"

He shook his head weakly. "He'll notice. He sees everything. I think he's psychic, like you."

Bruce couldn't help but roll his eyes. "I'm not psychic."

"Could have fooled me." The little joke made the boy smile. It was so good to see him, to hear his voice. Bruce's reassurances and gentle coaxing was exactly what he needed and wanted most. He could be stern and overly protective, but deep down the man cared more than anyone he ever knew. And just knowing that and hearing him now was enough. "You always knew when I was trying to sneak up on you."

"They're called peripherals. And you have a tendency to giggle." That won a giggle from the teen, making him shake his head. "Anything else you can tell me about him or his accomplice?"

"The other guy isn't Alfred." Dick started to blink drowsily, feeling at ease enough to let down his defenses and start to drift. His head still hurt but none of it mattered. Bruce was there and everything would be alright. "You really are psychic. How did you—"

"It's a two man job keeping you still for more than five minutes." That won him a laugh which quickly turned into a coughing fit. Again the man shifted forward to help him, but his hand passed through. He wasn't really there and it pained him. "Breathe easy. Slow and long. Don't hold it for any more than two counts. And—"

The teen snickered again as he rested back into the sweaty pillow under his head. "Mother hen. It's just some sort of altitude, stress, exertion sickness. Maybe infection, but they doubt it."

"Might be." He eyed the bandage peeking out from under Dick's shirt, frowning. "Dick, are they hurting you?"

The teen bit his mouth closed and nodded slowly. A stony threatening look appeared on the man's face, his rage barely contained as his son continued. "Mostly training accidents. He shows me different moves and when I fail to mimic them… he performs it on me. Not-Alfred just cooks and takes care of normal things. Sometimes I help."

"Training? He's training you." Dick nodded as Bruce looked over him again, looking for something. "Why?"

"He wants an apprentice. And apparently I fit the bill. And he wouldn't listen when I said to find someone else." He shifted in the bed again, one arm moving under the covers for release. It tried to hold onto the man's hand near his face but couldn't hold onto anything. Tears started to return to his eyes, aching to be held. "Bruce, when can I come home?"

"Soon Dick. Soon." A similar look came to the man's eyes. So close, but not close enough. Pain flashed in his eyes as he looked at his boy. "Dick, I've been meaning to talk to you about—"

The door not too far off opened, allowing Wintergreen entrance. It was time to change the water. Dick saw him and groaned, not really wanting any kind of interruption. "Oh no. Not you…"

Confused and caught off guard, Bruce reflexively turned to see who had just arrived, only to start fading away. Dick saw this and started screaming, despair filling him once again as he near leapt out of his bed reaching for where the espier was. "NO! DON'T GO! BRUCE DON'T GO! BRUCE!"

But his cries did nothing except confuse the old man coming towards him with a bowl of iced water. Before his eyes his greatest protector vanished. Horrified he trembled and gaped at the open air, shaking as the emptiness and vulnerability returned to him, maybe worse than before. He was right there! His second father was right there in front of him and now he was gone.

All because someone walked in.

"Richard?"

All at once everything exploded inside the boy. A fiery, vengeful glare fell on the bystander, and Dick started throwing everything in sight at him. "YOU DID THIS! YOU MADE HIM GO AWAY! BRING HIM BACK! BRING HIM BACK!"

"Richard!" Wintergreen was bombarded with pillows, an old water bowl, rags, and every throwable object within arm's length from the bed. The two bowls drenched him in seconds and he was forced to raise his arms to block the harder objects. Between his arms he could barely make out the feverish, enraged teen, still yelling at him.

"BRING HIM BACK! BRING BRUCE BACK! WHY DID YOU MAKE HIM LEAVE?! I WANT HIM BACK! WHY DID YOU HAVE TO COME IN?! GET OUT! GET OUT!"

Seeing his purpose for entering was foiled and Dick wouldn't be handled at the moment, sick or not, Wintergreen retreated back to the doorway where Slade was returning. They both saw Dick curl up face down on the bed, crying and howling for Bruce to come back. The model of misery. The two men exchanged looks as he sobbed more.

"Bruce please! Come back! Please come back! Don't leave me… Please don't leave me… I'll be good, I promise. Just come back… Don't leave me with him… Please come back, please!"

Someone grabbed his arm roughly, jerking his attention around to see who was there. Had his pleas worked? Instead of seeing who he wanted, he got the opposite. Slade gave him a stoic look, roughly holding his arm, and a needle. His eyes widened dangerously and he tried to pull away, but his burst of energy was spent and all he could do was wriggle. "No! Not you! Let me go! I won't want you! Go away! What are you doing?! AHH!"

The needle pierced his skin and fresh tears coursed down his face. The man hadn't bothered to sanitize the spot or pick one that'd hurt less. The chemicals burned as they went into his body, but at least his master had let him go, flopping back onto the bed weakly. His energy was far past spent.

Slade placed the empty syringe on a nearby table calmly. "Penicillin. Normally you would have received it in a less painful method, but considering how little you trust me, this was the only way to ensure your recovery." He looked over the exhausted teen on the bed, sweaty and crying weakly. He even hiccupped between tears like a child. The assassin shook his head as he saw the boy shake from his illness. He needed to rest.

Slowly he lifted the boy from the bed, taking the wriggling and feeble blows he gave out without batting an eye. One look over to his companion got Wintergreen to remake the bed. Slade held his apprentice to his chest, almost coddling him, in hopes to make him calm down. But like always Dick resisted his touch and pounded away weakly at his shoulder.

"Bring him back… Bring him back… Bring Bruce back…"

The assassin shook his head as he laid the boy back down on the bed, tucking him in tightly. "Must have been a pretty convincing dream."

"Hallucination I'd say."

Dick stopped moving so much, firmly tucked in the bed and shivering weakly because of his fever. He really looked weak and pathetic right then. But he'd get over this soon. Then they would continue his training. Maybe a little slower though. He already progressed a great deal since that Halloween night.

* * *

Several hundreds of miles away, a stressed out father gaped into the open air, the vision gone from him. His old friend and flame placed a hand on his shoulder, leaning over the silver dish between them. "Bruce! Are you alright?"

"I saw him," he murmured, looking back into the water in desperation. "I was just talking to him. And he's..."

It was taking every ounce of his control not to break down every day in front of people, and he shook like a leaf in the wind as he tried to retain that. But how could he? For a few brief minutes, he had is son in view, and now he was gone again. There... then... gone.

A sob broke free of his control, making the magician try to comfort him best she could. She couldn't bring back his son, but she could be there for him now.

* * *

A/N: ten points if you know who the lady was at the end. Anyway, yeah, I made Dick sick for a spell and they were able to talk via hallucinations! and because Dick was so feverish and emotional, he couldn't convince himself to say what he should have. there's a little more to this for tomorrow that'll answer some questions, but overall, just know they weren't thinking clearly and so didn't get all the intel they needed. Oh well. Hope you've liked! I got school to do. XP


	34. 34 - Recovered

Wow, people are good guessers!

* * *

**34 - Recovered**

Bruce led Zatanna solemnly back to her car. She gave him a mournful look, disappointed with herself. "I'm really sorry Bruce. I can't locate him and some kind of talisman is making it difficult to even contact him. I'm afraid tonight was a one-time deal."

The CEO shook his head slowly. "You have nothing to be sorry about Zanna. You've done more than you think."

"But he's—"

"You gave me a chance to talk to my son." He gave her a vulnerable smile, sad and thankful. She never saw that look on his face, and she knew him when he was a teenager. "I haven't heard his voice over two months. And just seeing him again…" He closed his eyes, mentally chiding himself. "I shouldn't have looked away. Maybe I could have—"

"You would only have heard his voice." She sighed heavily, tightening her coat around her. "That's the nature of the spell. You didn't see or hear anything other than Dick and what he was directly touching. As soon as his attention shifted from you to whoever came in, the spell was bound to break. It was only your strong connection with him that made it possible to communicate in the first place.

"Bruce," Zatanna looked into her old friend's eyes, conveying her sympathies, "I'm really sorry you saw him in that state, but it's also the easiest to reach someone. And a downside is—"

"He's not likely to remember, I know." Bruce ran a hand through his hair, stressed beyond belief. "There was only a slim chance this would have worked either way. But Dick needed to see me just as much as I did. I just wish…"

"Everyone wishes for more time with the ones they love." Her eyes conveyed how much more time she wanted with her own parents. Currently she was searching for her father, one of Bruce's old teachers. This stop over at his place was mutually beneficial. The detective had given her a solid lead as payment for that night. "Are you sure this has helped?"

He gave her a sad hint of a smile, nodding once. "I'm certain. I have leads now, and I will find him."

"I hope so." She ducked into her car, ready to go. "When he comes back, I want to meet your boy wonder. Hard to believe you've had eight years with him and I've never seen him."

Bruce smirked sadly, a promise in his eyes. "I'll throw a party. Be careful driving."

The woman smiled and nodded, revving up her engine. "Ecurb thginot llew peels."

"What?"

"Nothing. Later Bruce." And like that the woman was gone. Bruce watched her go for a while, seeing a good friend from his past leaving him. Her spell gave her much to think about, more to consider, but most of all it gave her hope. Getting her a lead for Zatara took a couple days, but if it gave him fifteen minutes with his son, it was worth it.

Besides, he had more to go on now, and he would find his son.

* * *

Everything was a blur really. Dick's head hurt a bit from whatever he went through recently. Fever, concussion, it was hard to tell. For a moment he felt safe and warm, he knew that. Probably from some kind of dream about the good days, before Slade decided to take over his life. Right then though, he just felt sweaty and hot. Suffocating really. What was this heavy thing on him?

It took a minute for his eyes to open then even longer to see clearly. A heavy comforter laid on top of him, blankets tucked right up to his chin and ended up at his eyelevel, making it hard to see where he was. It had to be his room inside the bunker; the bed was proof of that. Funny, he couldn't really remember going to bed. He laid there for a long while, just trying to figure out what had happened.

'_Headache, lots of blankets, sweat, dry mouth... Clothes still on and I don't feel any bandages... Arm's sore... aching all around... Stomach's empty... Okay... been sick a while. How long? Oooohhh... I really need to go to the bathroom._' It was this thought that pulled him upright, blearily looking around the room. The low lighting made it easy for him to see without it being uncomfortable, so he knew it wouldn't be a problem getting up and taking care of his bladder.

He tried to ignore all the aches, cracks, and pops from his joints as he turned towards the edge of his bed. He really had been in there too long. As he put his feet on the ground, out from under the warm covers, a voice made him freeze.

"And just where do you think you're going Renegade?"

His stomach suddenly didn't feel so empty. Slowly Dick brought his head up and saw his captor sitting in a chair not too far off. He was in street clothes that hadn't been washed in a couple days and it looked like he hadn't moved from that spot in a while. A small fold out table with a large bowl of ice water, a water bottle, some pills, and a stack of saltine crackers on top stood next to him. A large manual on a recently designed fighter jet was propped onto his lap, over half way completed. How long had he been there, waiting for him to get up?

"Uh... Bathroom?"

The man eyed him for a long moment in silence, then folded over a page to mark it before closing the book. He set it aside and walked over to Dick, a hand raised towards him. He did his best not to move, flinch, or wet himself (his bladder was very full) as his hand got closer to him. Did wince though on reflex as the back of Slade's hand rested on his forehead. His callused fingers flipped to his palm as he proceeded to check the boy's temperature.

"Hm. Nearly normal. Think you can make it on your own?" Looking up at the man in slight shock, he couldn't say anything. It was something Bruce or Alfred would ask him when he was sick or dizzy, not something he'd expect from his torturer's mouth. He almost seemed like a normal... dad. Was he a dad?

After a minute, Dick swallowed and nodded, pushing himself off the bed. Everything still ached from not being used for a bit, but he wasn't dizzy, just sore. When he wobbled at the first step, Slade raised an eyebrow at him, amused. "Are you sure?"

"I'll make it," he persisted, his voice cracking a bit. Opening his mouth now, he could feel how bad his throat was during his illness. That or he plain did not drink anything for much longer than eight hours. How long was he out? "Have before."

Nodding, Wilson took a step back to give him room to move, and he took it. Measuring his paces to keep himself from looking scared, Dick walked out of the room to the bathroom nearby. Slade followed him and waited outside the door like the stalker he was. It was with an exasperated sigh that he sat himself on the toilet to relieve himself, running his hands through his hair. "Okay Grayson, think this through. What on Earth happened again?"

Slowly memories stared to surface. Training, and lots of it. He made it back to the bank of a lake when he just... passed out. Sure he wasn't 100% beforehand, but it wasn't like last time when he sneezed in his master's face. He honestly had no idea what made him that sick. Even being sick was a blur. His fever must have been pretty high if his brain was this scrambled. He was pretty sure he heard Wintergreen say something like altitude and stress induced caused sickness. Freezing liquid temperatures probably didn't help matters. Add to it his many repeated exposure in the cooler and it was hard to believe he hadn't been getting sick more often.

The worst part was, Dick had no idea what he said or did while he was ill. He could tell he wasn't completely out of the woods yet, but if he couldn't recall what he said or did the past day or two, who knew how many secrets he could have spilled. He knew he talked in his sleep; everyone told him so, but with a fever, there was no telling what came out.

_'Okay Grayson, calm down. You're probably panicking over nothing. Slept the whole thing off.'_ If only life was that kind to him. Sighing heavily, he completed his business on the can and started cleaning himself up. After dousing his available skin, he scooped up handfuls of water and drank as much as he could. Had to pee and drink himself silly as soon as he was up and moving. Yeah, he'd been sick for a bit.

"Still conscious?" Slade's voice through the door reminded him he was not alone. Was he checking on him out of concern or because he wanted to make sure his asset wasn't further damaged?

Well it didn't matter. He'd probably break the door down if he didn't answer. "Mostly." Drying himself off, Dick straightened himself best he could and headed to the door. "How long was I out?"

"Does it matter?" Hearing this answer was easier to take with a solid wood door between them. It didn't matter? Slightly infuriated, the teen opened the door and saw the man shaking his head. "You didn't improve until I gave you penicillin, and you were so stubborn I had to give you a shot. Almost more trouble than it was worth.

"Are you feeling better?" His one eye looked over the lad, a question in his gaze. He seemed genuinely interested in his wellbeing. It almost tugged at his heartstrings. Almost.

He turned away, pushing away any feelings or impressions he had right then. Whether he 'cared' or not, Slade had taken everything important to Dick and was forcing him to learn things for all the wrong reasons in order to save lives. He hated and feared this man. Slade's kindness was merely a tool to control him. "Mostly. Not 100%, but I can stand."

"Hm..." His master seemed to be debating something, standing stone still in thought before turning back the way they came. "Not yet. You have another day of bed rest before training can resume. Change your clothes and return to bed. Wintergreen will have something ready for you in an hour. Eat up and take your medicine, or I'll give you another shot. Are we clear?"

Dick forced himself to look at him and answer. "Yes sir."

For some reason that pleased him. He nodded and turned away, headed wherever he needed to go the past few days. He watched the man walk off before starting back to his room. Even if he hated the guy, the teen knew he needed the extra rest. And frankly, he really needed a change of clothes. He smelled horrible and there was no way on Earth he was going to have a "shower" any time soon.

* * *

A/N: so Dick's all better now! This may be the last bit of Slade fluff though and things are gonna go darker again soon, so love what you see now. What Zatanna said lastly to Bruce was a spell to get him to really have a good night's rest. He really needed one. Not much else to say about this chapter. There's 21 chapters left and next week the Titans return. Enjoy!


	35. 35 - Better Than You Know

Kinda a review chapter, but I wanted one for Cass. She's been neglected.

* * *

**35 - Better Than You Know**

Tim slapped his hand hard against the mat, breaking his fall best he could. Thankfully his falls were instinct now or Cass' throw would have hurt him. They'd been working on basic judo moves for the past hour and so far the boy hadn't managed to throw his sister once. He evaded attacks rather well, but he was very weak when on the offensive. They switched to judo because of this, but still found he had too little strength to get the job done.

His sister was ready to give up on judo too. "Alright, I think that's it for now." She pointed towards the small weights off to the side. "You better work on your upper body strength."

"When are... we... getting back... to hitting?" Air had a hard time reaching his lungs, and all things considered, she couldn't blame him. As weak as Tim was compared to her, he worked really hard at everything he did. In time he'd become quite good because of that, but convincing a nine year old this was intensely difficult.

"Tomorrow. We'll work on your form first."

"But-"

"I said no complaining!" Her snapping got Tim to quiet immediately, remembering their deal. She'd only train him if he promised to do exactly as she said and not complained about it. Normally she wouldn't have snapped either, but she was very frustrated. Not just with the lack of progress with Tim's fighting prowess, but in everything else around her as well.

She didn't show it like the others, but she was anxious about Dick too, about everyone. She just...

Rubbing her head, she tried not to imagine the acrobat flipping on the bars not too far away from the practice mats. He always was there with them in the past, making sure everything turned out alright. They were his spotter and he was their emergency medic. It was a pretty simple system and worked well for years. Not having him there set her off balance.

"Sorry..." She shook her head as she apologized for snapping at her brother. "I just... I need some air. Work on your arms for a few minutes then call it a night."

Glumly he nodded and did as he was told. Cass saw his disappointment and tried to shrug it off as she left the room to breathe. Harder to do than she thought. She was running out of ideas on how to teach Tim anything, or what to teach him. This really wasn't the job for her but it was all she could do and she had promised she'd help him out. She didn't want to disappoint him. Tim was her favorite. She got along well with Jason and alright with Damian and Dick, but they understood each other best. The quiet ones. They'd been in the same class for the past three years, helping each other out whenever they were in trouble. And right then she didn't know how to help him.

Dick would know what to do. He always knew. Dad knew too, some times. He was just... distracted.

Getting an idea, Cass decided to pay the man a visit. More than likely, considering the late hour, their dad was in the cave, working on either Dick's case or on a minor one the League ran into that could be handled easily. Damian would be with him, getting sleepy enough to go to bed without a fuss (quite a challenge these days). Jason might be there too, but he was still cleaning cars for ditching school last she knew. Really it was time to wind down for the night. For everyone to wind down actually. Did Dad ever wind down? She was beginning to think not.

Thinking about the past couple months, the girl could not ignore how tense he was. Often he was seen drinking coffee, looking over data until he couldn't make sense of the words anymore. He slept every few days or spontaneously passed out when he sat still for too long. She never seen him like this before, and it worried her.

Everyone worried her.

Even Barbara had taken a turn for the worst, not talking to them these days. Too bad all their bodies spoke to the girl so loudly. They may have been able to conceal their worry if she hadn't been able to read them so easily. Things couldn't continue like this.

Spotting Alfred, Cass decided to slip into the cave undetected behind him. It wasn't hard for her, especially since the old man was concentrating on carrying the coffee tray and cups down the stairs without tripping. He'd been shaky the past few months, but only she had noticed. Missing some cleaning, using only so much of certain spices instead of making foods to taste, even taking shortcuts in the cooking every once in a while. The tension in his shoulders, the way he looked at everyone, the ghost of a habit to look up at different intervals, his subtle body language worried her even more. She noticed his subtle signs of distress, but didn't know what to do about it.

Sadly, the lass passed him in order to hunt down her father and see what he was up to. Maybe even convince him to act according to her wishes. Silent as could be, Cass made it to the main level of the cave, gliding towards the computer their dad sat at. Aunt Diana was with him, looking over something. A clue of some sort?

"And there's nothing your Oracle systems can bring up? At all? Even with the added information?"

Wonder Woman shook her head, disappointed for some reason. "Hera help us. I don't even know if Apollo could decipher what Dick put here."

'_Dick?_' The girl blinked, slipping even further into the darkness, straining her ears to listen to every word spoken. Were they holding something back?

"Have you tried talking to her about it?" The amazon pointed to something she couldn't see. "It is addressed to her after all."

"Not yet." The man sighed heavily, rubbing his eyes. His careworn face was looking more weathered by the night. Stress radiated from every feature, worrying the child. What were they talking about? "I wanted to see if I could find something first. Anything. There isn't anything remarkable about the supplies and there's no DNA. And the message itself..." He shook his head before continuing. "The wording is his, the handwriting's his, and other than the one misspelling, there's no code to decipher.

"The message has to be in the artwork and the extra letter."

"What message?"

Both adults jerked around at Cass' voice, shocked she was there with them. Damian wasn't in the cave after all, merely them, Alfred, and the large computer with a barely readable note on the screen with a few test results next to it. A note that had her name on it. "What's going on?"

Diana and her father exchanged hesitant looks, then looked beyond her to the old man who now stood just behind her. If the girl had looked behind her she'd have seen the withering I-told-you-so look in Alfred's eyes. Reading the two before him, she already had an answer. "You've been keeping something from us about Dick."

While Wonder Woman tried to come up with some liable excuse, her father slumped in defeat. He knew he couldn't hide this now. Didn't matter what he said. She knew when he was lying, she always did. "Little sister, we did not wish to-"

"Don't tell Tim or Damian." Bruce looked to her imploringly. "I don't want them to get their hopes up until we have something solid and can bring him home. You know how they are."

"Bruce!" the Amazon objected out of reflex, but Cass nodded anyway, hurrying over. She understood what her father was getting at, even if the woman didn't. "I thought-"

"Weren't you just telling me to include her in the investigation?" He gave her a quick look, silencing his ally. Sighing slightly, he looked back to his daughter. "And you're right. She may see something we don't. A fresh set of eyes could help unravel this clue. Cass." He tilted his head slightly, signaling her to take a look. She didn't hesitate to go to his side and see what he had on the screens. It didn't take her long to see what it was, her eyes widening with every second. "What do you make of it?"

"You found evidence Dick's alive."

Her father nodded. "And that was nearly two months ago. Last week Zatanna helped me make contact with him." Cassandra jerked her head to see him properly. What was that? He held up a hand so he could explain. "It was a onetime spell and I didn't get a lot from it. Let me tell you what I know and you can tell me what you think."

The girl watched his face for a moment in silence, seeing how worn he was from all of this once again. Not telling them was part of the reason he was so stressed. If he wasn't so good at keeping secrets for the sake of others, he'd have burst from the knowledge. And from the looks of it, he had quite a bit. Cass nodded and slid onto a flat panel next to the keyboard, letting the man review.

"Around your birthday, Dick and two men made a pit stop in Smallville at the northern gas station. They were driving a U-Haul and only stayed long enough to get gas, use the restroom, and stretch their legs. When his captors were distracted, he wrote this note, folded it into a tight diamond, and put it in between the gondolas so it wouldn't be found by the wrong people. Then he proceeded to the bathroom and made an etching on the stall door." Bruce brought up images of the note and circled R mark from an old door. Both were clearly done by Dick and willingly, somewhat in haste. Cass read the note, her mouth quirking because it was addressed to her but confused as to why Dick would send that when he clearly needed help. He must have put a secondary message in it.

"Martha and Jonathan Kent found the mark a week or so later; we're not sure exactly when Dick was there, just late January, early February. Clark found the note after a search and brought it here as soon as they found it."

"I see..."

"We suspect Dick left this vague message because he knew he was being watched," Diana explained, trying to justify her presence. "Every resource we have has tested it, including my people's Oracle systems. It has only confirmed that Dick was more worried about it being found than about being found himself. Whoever is with him must scare him greatly."

"You can say that again." The detective continued to tell his daughter what they knew. "I convinced Zatanna Zatara to attempt making contact with Dick using magic, but she told me it would be difficult. Apparently she already attempted a scrying spell on her own and found he was being blocked from location spells by some unseen force. She believes his captors have a talisman, and the only way to move around it was to use a very complicated spell which would... weaken Dick's constitution and make the entire visit like a fever induced hallucination."

"What?" Cass looked over the man in confusion. He looked incredibly guilty about something. The Amazon explained, also trying to hide some guilt and contempt.

"She cast a spell to make him sick. Sick enough for another spell to slip through the talisman's barrier and allow for communication, howbeit briefly."

"We couldn't find him," Bruce explained, "but I was able to talk to him for a few minutes. He confirmed he was in Smallville and left a note. He said they went through Mexico, but he's not sure if they're there currently or not. There are two men involved, but one of them is like Alfred, yet not. The other, his main kidnapper, terrifies him to the point he can't talk about him at all. Mr. Kidnapper has some sort of trigger that'll kill people if he doesn't do what he says."

"And what does he want?" This is what she wanted to know, needed to know. Why was Dick taken away? Why him? It didn't make sense to take one of them and not demand money.

"Apparently an apprentice." Cass blinked in confusion while her father sighed heavily, almost as confused as her. "From what I could gather, the person who took him saw the news report from Halloween and was impressed by his skills. It's the only incident that makes sense with what Dick told me. He must have spent months preparing for Dick's abduction, watching him and setting up an elaborate plan to take and keep him without too much hassle. The phones from Star City to keep from being discovered, the fire in Ivy Town covering up a theft of an unknown object, the warehouse maze for a meeting place, the near untraceable tech there... they were all meticulously taken and used to ensure Dick couldn't be found or leave his kidnappers when they struck. Mrs. Macamyre must have been proof he was serious about killing innocent lives if he didn't comply."

"So he is trying to save us." The thought of their lives being used in order to control their big brother made sense, yet sickened her. They suspected this was the case from the beginning, but now it was confirmed.

"I had Clark check for bombs around the manor and Wayne Enterprises," he explained, holding up a hand. "Even your school. He's found none. It's very possible the ones being threatened aren't us but Haly's Circus, or his distant relatives. It could even be a children's hospital he visited. We can't determine yet whose lives the men are hanging over Dick's head yet, but we're narrowing it down."

"The curse of a noble and caring heart," Diana murmured to the side. Alfred was almost done serving Calamine tea, offering it to everyone as they spoke. "Wanting to protect everyone and everything. A very good trait to have most days, but can be considered a weakness if played on by a villain. You raised too good of a boy."

"Nobility of heart is a very fine quality to have," the butler agreed, nearly forcing the tea cup into his employer's hand. "And there are few as strong as Master Richard in that regard."

"Quite so." Bruce coddled the cup as he continued explaining. "Whoever has him isn't so noble. When I saw him, he had bandages and bruises, making his illness worse than it had to be." He shook his head regretfully. "He was just supposed to have a fever... Dick claimed it was all from training accidents, but I don't quite believe him. Either way, his kidnapper is training him to kill, by any means necessary. Training him to be like him."

"An assassin."

Cass paled as she came to that conclusion. Someone was trying to do to her brother what was done to her. The first six years of her life was hell, and she knew it. Her ability to read bodies came from survival. She either learned how to read her biological father's movements, or suffer when she failed to perform to his liking. She could only thank her lucky stars leading to her family now that she never knew her biological mother.

As it was, her real dad placed a hand on her knee to reassure her that the past didn't matter to him. She was a child forced into a world she didn't want. Bruce Wayne gave her a real life and she would forever be grateful for that. Her tightening stomach loosened considerably as he looked her steadily in the eye. He was nothing like Cain and she was never going back to him.

"We can't rule that out," he admitted, giving her knee a squeeze before letting go and returning to his tale. "Ra's insists the League of Assassins has nothing to do with Dick's disappearance, so whoever this person is, he's freelance. If I had access to Ra's records, I could narrow the list down further, but as it is, we don't have that luxury."

"You keep in contact with that man?" Diana objected, having heard of their past. Cass grimaced a bit at the memory of the man who nearly became their grandfather. They only met twice, and both times she got the impression that if she wasn't the daughter of two prized assassins and potentially his future granddaughter by marriage, he would have had her killed.

"Not exactly." Judging by how uncomfortable the man became, there was more to this than he was going to tell them. This was one secret that'd remain secret, at least in part. "He contacted me in order to end suspicion and probing of his empire. Ra's al Ghul is powerful, deranged madman, but he usually is a man of his word, particularly when family is involved. And as I told Clark, how Dick was taken is not his method, at all. I think we can safely assume he had nothing to do with it. He may know who did it, but he's not telling. Apparently thinks I should be able to figure it out."

"Then we should capture him and interrogate-"

"At what cost?" He looked back to Wonder Woman imploringly. "Ra's is a powerful enemy and has many followers. It'd be a waste of time and resources. Your last run in with him was enough trouble as is."

"He's right." Cass slipped off the panel she was on and typed on the computer to get a better look at the note and data. Her immediate willingness to work surprised the Amazon a bit, but it really shouldn't have. She was raised by Bruce Wayne after all, and despite the privilege they lived in, they all were raised with a strong work ethic. "We should focus on finding out what assassin has a name starting with S and a theme of orange and black. He has an accomplice who's a bit like Alfred and has tactical training. Anything else?"

"From what the gas station owner says," Bruce continued on, "the kidnappers are older men, somewhere between Clark and Mr. Kent's ages. They're former military as well, American."

"So... mid-forties to late fifties, two males... guessing white?" He hadn't mentioned race so she had to guess. Her father nodded. "Ex-military turned assassin. Name starts with an S or is associated with an S. And some part of his costume is half black and half orange. Freelancer and some kind of caretaker with him. Using U-Haul trucks and cash... That about sums it up, right?"

"Part of his costume?" The adults looked at each other, apparently not considering that yet. "Why do you say that?"

"Why else would he split it down the middle like that?" She pointed to the slight crease in the paper, marking the division. "Some focal point about his kidnapper must be half black, half orange down the center, some kind of signature. It must be important, that and the extra S. Maybe if you crossed those with the database you could make a list of suspects."

Bruce's face became extremely still for a moment, the way it did when a piece fell into place. He looked over to the screens a second later, placing his tea cup off to the side. Diana became severely confused while Alfred merely raised an eyebrow, watching the cup to make certain it didn't fall. Cass watched their reaction and wondered what was going through each of their heads. Had she sparked something important in her father's head?

"He knew who he was."

"What?" He didn't explain himself but started bringing up old files in his systems to start weeding through them. Their foreign ally tried once again to get him to talk. "Bruce, what are you talking about?"

"When Dick was taken, he left his parents rings behind." The man glared at the screens in frustration, kicking himself for one reason or another. Cass knew there was more going on in his brain than he let on. "At first glance, I thought he was just making certain the chain didn't tangle, but he formed it into an S, right on top of his clothes. It was a clue. He knew from the very beginning who took him."

"Meaning..."

"Meaning he's somewhere inside these files, and not as limited as I initially thought." Bruce's eyes focused on the myriad of old cases before him. Donning came to Cass and Alfred immediately while it took a little more to get Diana to catch up.

"Master Richard likes to read old case files of Batman and the Justice League when he's bored," Alfred informed her. "He is possibly the most updated civilian on League activities and the villains you face."

"And he has a photographic memory," Cass added. "He recognizes people in an instant."

"The only way he'd know an _assassin_ I wouldn't think of is if he was in these files." The detective started clicking on files, seemingly at random. "Unfortunately the program to do a quick search contracted a virus a couple weeks ago and I haven't gotten around to replacing it yet. We'll have to search them manually."

"In the morning." They all looked at the butler putting his foot down. There was a firm crease in between his eyebrows, warning his employers there was no debate on this matter. "As this task will likely take several days, even weeks, to complete, I recommend a full night's sleep before trying to start it. Or have you both forgotten about this being a school night? And the board meeting tomorrow?"

Father and child stilled, exchanged wary looks, then both gave into the old man's demands. It was time for the others to be in bed after all. The Amazon must have sensed it was time for her to go because she gave some vague excuse and politely left before either Wayne could make it up the stairs.

"Never could get Alfred off my back about sleeping," the man murmured to his daughter. She shrugged, knowing a little what he was talking about. She was possibly the most obedient of everyone in that house, with Tim being the close second. Speaking of which... "What brought you downstairs to begin with?"

"Tim." Cass looked down in disappointment. "I don't know what to teach him. We both try but... He's not strong enough. I think he needs you to help him."

Bruce looked over her for a moment, confused. "But he's making a lot of progress. I've been watching on the monitors and he's improved a good deal. Even learned a few new tricks."

"True... but-"

"Cassandra," her father instructed, looking her in the eye as they reached the study, "you need to have a little confidence in your teaching. You're both doing better than you know."

She thought over this for a minute, starting to see what he was. Tim was always okay at defensive moves, but he'd gotten really good at taking a hit and minimizing damage to himself lately. She just wasn't seeing progress in the offensive area, and that was where they were trying to improve most. "Maybe..."

"If you're that unsure about everything," he tried, "how about teaching him how to use a staff? Some people learn better by going backwards instead of forwards."

"Tim's a genius," she reminded him, not liking the idea of teaching weapons before hand to hand combat was mastered.

"Not in combat." The knowing look the man gave her was a bit annoying, but justified. "That has always been your territory."

Shrugging, the girl bypassed her dad to get to bed. It really was too late to think of anything new. Her head was still reeling from learning about Dick. She had answers and a lot more questions, plus a new secret to keep. She didn't know if it was better to know what she knew now or to be kept in the dark, but she knew sleep would elude her until she could sort it out. May as well get started on that.

* * *

"NO! I'M SORRY! I DIDN'T MEAN-" Pressurized water slammed into Dick once again, making him writhe and scream in pain. Bruises mounted on bruises. Recent small cuts and scrapes stung as liquid fell into them. The wall he was sent careening to barely managed to keep him upright during the entire onslaught. This time was longer than the last. "_MASTER!_ _PLEASE!_ STOP! I'M SORRY!"

"_Not sorry enough._" Not even the lad's begging would stop him this time. The pressure continued, striking every part of the teen repeatedly and forcing him to move in certain directions to relieve the pain. Even when Dick was reduced to a quivering body trying to protect itself in the fetal position, it did not end.

When it did, he was physically and mentally unable to tell. Everything hurt. Everything froze. He was too scared to do anything, to move or to say anything more.

All of this for a comment?

He barely realized he was grabbed and pulled to his feet just seconds before he was thrown into the cooler once again. Panic gripped his heart as soon as he made it through the doorway, thoughts and memories creeping into him without his bidding. No... Not again!

He hit concrete, scraping his joints on impact. Crying out on reflex rather than pain, he almost didn't hear his master's ultimatum. "-done this months ago. You are going to stay in here until you learn some respect _Apprentice_. _I am your master_, and you are to uphold my legacy and dignity under every circumstance. _Never_ insinuate I am something I'm not. _Never_ talk back to me. And _never_ disobey me. This is _nothing_ compared to what I could do. Remember that. _Apprentice_."

Dick turned around to look at him fearfully just seconds before the door slammed shut, locking him inside the dark cold room, soaked through the skin and completely alone. He couldn't stop himself from running to the door, pounding it, and screaming at the top of his lungs to be let out, begging for forgiveness.

And to think a couple days ago he was starting to think Slade may not be all bad.

* * *

A/N: What did Dick say? Find out tomorrow when you see him finally break. But what will come out of it. B] so much whumpage to come. As for the rest, Cass just put them on the right track completely, but due to system malfunctions and life in general, it's still gonna be a bit until they find him. This is just days before Dick turns 17. So sad.

and as a sidenote/explanation as to the late hour of posting, Thor 2 is awesome, and if you stick to it until the very end of the credits, you get a happily ever after. Laters!


	36. 36 - Resolve

Don't bite your nails, hug your pillows. another scene in which I debated the rating on. Bit trippy at the beginning, but if you understand _Nemo in Slumberland_, you'll be fine. sadism abounds

* * *

**36 - Resolve**

Everything burned around him. Bodies were all over the ground and there was no end of the blood surrounding him. Faces he knew, in passing and specifically, laid before him. A mountain of bones and ashes was under his feet. Smells of rotting corpses and burning flesh hit him at every turn. The worst part though was the sounds. People were screaming in pain, crying for those lost, and a maniacal laughter off in the distance.

A heavy hand landed on his shoulder, that icy voice ringing in his ear. "Well done Renegade. My apprentice. You've finally reached your full potential. Doesn't it feel... good?"

"I don't feel anything." He didn't. He really didn't. Despite seeing everything and knowing he was the cause of it, he felt nothing at all. There was nothing left inside him to feel.

"That will pass." His master leaned down to look at him in the eye, grinning. "Now that those who were holding you back are gone, nothing can stop you. Ready to go?"

"Yes Master."

Slowly they turned towards a burning city and entered the flames. On the other side of them was a trapeze platform, high inside the big top. His master grinned and guided him towards the wires holding the set up. "You know what to do."

Robotically, he climbed further up the rigging, stopping just at the final set of ropes. Nimbly he took out a knife and sliced through them, watching the performers on them falling. Screaming. The deafening crack of the bodies hitting the straw covered floor filled the room, ending their lives. He killed them.

And he smiled.

Jerking up from his bed, Dick sweat bullets at the nightmare he had. Guilt filled him, along with horror and sobs. He shook horribly from the images in his mind, unable to come to grips with what it meant. Throwing off his blankets, he dashed out of the utilitarian bed and to the cramped bathroom not too far off. He struggled to regain his breath, washing his face to wake himself up as much as possible. He had to get those images out of his head.

Killing all those people... Schoolmates, Wayne Enterprises employees, friends, Leaguers... His family... his parents... How could his dream-self do that? Trying not to be sick, he looked up at his reflection to try a calming technique Bruce taught him. It always helped in the past if he could just look himself in the eye...

Stopping still at his reflection, horror filled him. White hair and a single blue eye stared back at him. This wasn't Dick Grayson. This...

"See?" Master's cool voice vibrated over him as his mask and person appeared behind him in the mirror. "You're becoming more like me every day."

The shattering of the mirror before him woke the lad from the nightmare once again. From the ones in his mind at least. Eyes snapping open, short on breath, Dick stayed still on the cold concrete floor beneath him. The cooler's stone walls stayed around him with only the darkness for company. Curled up on his side for warmth, the terrified boy let the tears fall from what was in his dream. He couldn't see colors in that place so he couldn't be certain if his hair was black or white, or if there was blood on his hands and not dirt and water. His nightmare, his living one, wasn't over.

Blindly he felt his face, making certain both eyeballs were in place, taking some comfort in them staying where they were. He also took comfort he was still in that wretched cooler and not being used for some nefarious plot. No training, just shivering, wet and naked, in this dark, silent, stone cold room.

How long had he been in there? A few hours? A day? Two days? The only times the door opened was when his master was going to hose him off again. Then he'd lecture him, remind him what was at stake, and repeatedly stated he was never to defy him. Never insult him. Sass had lost its amusement. Sarcasm was forbidden. This was his punishment for mumbling sarcastically to himself the guy was actually a pedobear. He could still hear the words the monster said in his mind.

"I may be a lot of things Renegade, but a pedophile is not one of them." He'd grip his hair tightly, pulling his head back painfully so he would remember the pain as he repeated the order over and over again. "Never refer to me as such Apprentice. Ever. No more back talking, no more complaints. You are my soldier, to do as you are told. You know the consequences for disobedience. Do you want to suffer? For them to suffer?"

Weakly he would whimper a kind of 'no', making his master nod in satisfaction. He'd let go of his head and shove him back to the ground roughly. "Good. Never forget that Apprentice. I am your master, your teacher and mentor. You live and die according to my wishes. You live for me, you will kill for me, and you will die for me. Are we clear?"

This would be where he'd shrink back and whimper more. He never wanted to say yes. He couldn't. Though he understood it all, he honestly could not answer that one. Without a clear answer, the assassin would sigh heavily and step back out of the isolation chamber. "I see you need more time to cool off Apprentice."

"No..."

"I pray next time you will be more understanding."

The door would close and Dick would scream for his master to return and let him out. He couldn't make the promise to kill, to live and die according to the monster's wishes, but he couldn't stay in that place. He couldn't...

Whimpering and crying from his last series of nightmares in that horrid place, he tried to figure out what to do or say to fix things, to get back out and feel the sun again. Never had he feared being in the dark before then, and he didn't like starting now. It almost smelled like the cave...

The conclusion struck him so hard, the teen curled up even further to recover from the blow. He had to get out of there. He had to! There had to be a way! A way to end this! To save himself and his siblings! A way to...

'_Just kill him._'

The voice echoed inside his head so simply, he could hardly contain it. It sounded a little like Jason to tell the truth, and that disturbed him. Jason with a touch of Two-Face. '_He holds the trigger, he's the big threat. Just kill him and you're free. They're all free. Think you can handle that little boy?_'

"Batman doesn't kill," Dick reminded his inner, eviler voice. "Superman doesn't kill. I can't-"

'_I'm not saying there won't be consequences,_' the voice continued. '_Just that the pros outweigh the cons. Which is more important? The lives of your siblings and the lives of all those he'd have you kill later, or his? You can do whatever you want after he's dead, but your family will be free. Think of how many you will save. One life for the sake of thousands._'

"I can't beat him."

'_Then keep learning until you can. Play his game until you can kill him, then do it._'

The words in his damaged psyche resounded as they made sense. Keep learning. Find an opening. Kill Slade. Kill Deathstroke. Save everyone. Whatever happened after their survival was assured didn't matter. He didn't matter. All that mattered were the four young lives in Gotham hanging over his head. He was going to save them, no matter what.

It was with this resolve set in his mind that the door opened once again with another onslaught of pressurized water. Protecting himself best he could, Dick took the beating, only calling out a little. It hurt, but he was familiar with it. He could take it. He would take everything if it meant saving their lives.

A cold wind hitting him next told him the immediate attack was gone, but next came his master and tormentor. He winced as always, flinching terribly as the man repeated the lesson from all those times before. Again the question condemning him to this place arrived. "Are we clear?"

Trembling, he finally murmured the words the man wanted to hear. "Yes Master."

The terror before him stopped, raising his good eyebrow. "Repeat that."

"Y-yes Master." Head hanging in shame, he finally gave in. "I live and die according to your will."

The assassin looked over him critically as Dick struggled to get to his knees, pride long ago shattered in the name of survival. Anything to keep his family safe and stop the torture he was enduring. If Master did want his body, he'd give it up. But he didn't. All he wanted was his obedience and loyalty. Fine. Until he could kill the monster before him, he'd do everything he said. Not as if he had a choice in the matter anyway.

A hand hovered over his head for a moment, making him tremble in fear. Expecting his hair to be pulled back, imagine his surprise when a tender hand cupped his chin instead, leaning his head back so his master could look into his blue orbs. "You understand I do not appreciate being lied to Apprentice. If you disobey me, you know the consequences."

Striving to control his shaking, the teen closed his eyes and bit his lips, not knowing how to respond. Slade must have seen that and told him what to do next. "A lie or no, there is one way to prove yourself right now. Swear your loyalty to me. Swear you will obey me, always. That you will follow in my footsteps until your dying day. Swear it to me Renegade."

Taking a painful breath in, he opened his eyes and did as he was told. Renegade would always do as he was told. "I swear, upon my life, I will obey and serve you, Master."

The terror of his life, manipulator of his reality, watched him for a long moment, considering his oath. It took all of Dick's self-control to not look away, but he knew he was showing signs of shame and guilt. He wanted very much to look away. He was betraying Bruce. Betraying all he loved and stood for. But if he was going to save everyone, he would say anything, swear anything, to do so. He'd be going back on all of them anyway.

Still, a slow smile grew on his master's face. "That will do for now."

Releasing his chin, Master roughly grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet. The room was too small for either of them to stand to their full height, but that hardly mattered. Slade could bend over and still look intimidating and Dick could hardly stand anyway. If it weren't for the man's grip, he'd have collapsed back onto his knees. His chilling voice whispered harshly in his ear. "Whether you're lying or not doesn't matter. You will fulfill your oath to me Apprentice. If you stray even an inch from your new path, I will put you back in line, and it will be worse than these past two days. Remember that Renegade."

Petrified and trembling, the teen numbly let himself be dragged out of the chamber he'd been stuck in. Every step hurt, doubling in pain as his feet touched the real earth beneath them once again. But the pain was worth it. Looking up, he could barely see the sun rising over the horizon. It was the dawn of a new day; what day didn't matter. All that mattered were two things: he was out of that room, and he had a plan.

Do as he was told. Avoid punishment. Learn everything he could. Kill Master. Save everyone.

It was only seconds after Master let go of his arm that clothes were thrown into his face, along with a pair of shoes. "Get dressed Renegade. You still have to earn your meal."

Numbly he nodded, dampening his emotions as much as he could. "Yes Master."

* * *

A/N: ... you still there? I think this is the last of the severe stuff, but there's at least one more scene that's iffy. Now consider everything Dick's gone through already, how he's taken everything so far. If after all of that you were isolated, starved, and hosed down for two days straight, do you really think anyone could think straight? Slade was hoping for Stockholm Syndrome and complete brainwashed obedience, but all of this can also backfire. And it did. Dick was trained to act and to perform. He is performing now for Slade and has for a long time (he's not giving him his all and hiding information) but now he's so desperate for things to end that he'll do almost anything. Some confidence will return before the end, and Dick's not completely compliant, but around Slade and his evil box and hose of doom, he's a very broken boy. So long as the threat and power is there, Dick can't do anything. remove that though and everything changes.

As for the dream sequences, well I wanted to do the second one for a long time. I thought it was rather fitting. The first one was a bit mean. If you haven't seen Nemo in Slumberland (I think I'm getting the title wrong) it's about this kid who has wonderful adventures in his dreams, and he keep waking up from dreams, within his dream. Bit cooky. Great movie for putting ten year olds to bed with though.

And last bit about the oath and the loophole Dick found. A name is an identity, so the loyalty sworn by one name is not the loyalty sworn by another. Renegade is loyal to Slade now, but Dick isn't. That's important to his damaged psyche. Anywho, have fun til monday when I'll make you cry again. The teen titans will return shortly. X3


	37. 37 - Birthday Blues

Little bit of sad fluff before things take off again.

* * *

**37 - Birthday Blues**

No one felt like partying, though normally the whole house would be in an uproar that time of year. Without the birthday boy there, was there even a reason to party? It was like those "if a tree falls in the woods and no one's there to hear it, does it make a sound" kind of questions. And yet everyone somehow found their way into Dick's bedroom at one point of time or another that day.

After all, it was his seventeenth birthday.

Alfred called in sick for everyone, knowing no one would have the energy to leave the house. He didn't press the matter with any of them either. It was only out of habit that he made a simple chocolate birthday cake anyway.

"What's that for?" Jason asked when he slipped into the kitchen for some kind of snack. Dad was down in the cave looking over notes again last he checked. He was just going for something to eat before rejoining him. Not every day Alfred phoned in to give them a ditch day, so may as well make the most of it.

The worn butler shrugged. "Memories I suppose. Master Richard would have wanted a cake."

"Got candles?" The teen looked up to him, shrugging a little. "He'd want candles too."

"I believe there are a few left over." He went into the fridge and found a small box with colorful candles inside. He counted them briefly and sighed. "As I feared. There are too few."

"That's when we get creative." Without a thought, the boy took the box and emptied it into his hand, twisting his lips in thought. There were nine candles, but they'd do the trick. He started placing them on the cake as he concocted his plan with the crafty old man before him. "Mind getting everyone in Dick's room in about ten minutes?"

Alfred was starting to see where he was going with this. "It may pose a bit of a problem for certain others."

"Tell him I'll spill the beans about the note and magic visit if he doesn't come." It only took a minute to make the numbers on the cake. He was about to snag a box of matches from the secret compartment above the china when the butler held up a hand and retrieved it himself.

Handing the box to him, the old man smirked. "Very well sir. Try not to stain the carpet in the process."

Grinning at the man, Jason slid the matches into his pocket and carried the prepared cake out of the kitchen and upstairs as carefully as he could. It took a little maneuvering to open Dick's bedroom door without dropping it, but by the time he was inside, he was almost confident he could pass as a waiter one day.

He was not counting on seeing Tim laying down on Dick's bed when he got there. The kid was flipping through Dick's photo album between Peanut the elephant and Mystery Dog, not even noticing his big brother's arrival. A few bandaids and wraps covered his hands, but that wasn't any news to him. Practicing with Cass was hard work, even when you weren't a total beginner. The kid was toughing it out best he could, and he was getting a bit better. Jason didn't have to hold back as much when they practiced now.

The teen slid the cake onto Dick's desk and quietly came to Tim's side, looking over his shoulder to see what he was looking at. Somehow it landed on one of Dick's birthday parties. Tim just had to remind himself about what was missing, just like Dad.

"Wasn't that the year we made his cake?" Jason's voice dragged the kid back from the past, making him look up at last. "You insisted if we set it at a higher temperature it'd cook faster."

"That was his fourteenth birthday," he reminded him before pointing at the picture. "This was last year. See? Damian's there. He put his hand in the frosting and nearly made a mess of everything."

"Oh yeah." The teen shrugged. "They all kinda blur together after a while."

"Not really." Tim flipped the page, looking sadly down at the memories before them. "He's supposed to be seventeen today." Timidly, he asked what he feared most. "Do you think he's still alive?"

"Timmy-"

"Statistically most stranger kidnappings lasting over twenty-four hours end in the victim's death. Victims are taken within about fifty miles of their abduction sites. If there isn't a ransom-"

"He's fine!" Jason insisted, already knowing this time the stats were wrong. "This is Dick we're talking about! He's fighting to get home, tooth and nail. There is no way he's dead. So stop talking like that. He's fine, plain and simple. Just... unable to get home and eat cake today, that's all."

"I'm not a baby anymore Jay." The nine year old's lip quivered as he tried to prove his bravery. Wasn't working. "You don't have to sugar coat anything. I can take it."

His brother glared at him for a moment, wanting to smack him for lying like that, but knowing that wouldn't help matters this time. He couldn't just pick a fight to cheer him up like usual. Dick wasn't there to break it up and play peacemaker. That was his job now.

Leaning over, he slid his arms around the smaller boy and held on tight. Tim didn't fight back as Jason hugged him, just hung his head and let a few tears fall. He looked more pathetic than Peanut alone on that large bed. They stayed like that for a minute or two before Jason spoke. "Sometimes... even the strongest can't handle something. There are just some things we're better off not knowing. That's when we have to have faith alright? Faith that everything will work out, somehow.

"Dick'll come back. I swear it."

"Really?" Trembling and lonely, Tim turned upward to look into his brother's eyes. He desperately wanted to believe everything Jason said, wanted to believe Dick was alright and was going to come home soon. He was just scared because of the facts.

So his big brother did another normally uncharacteristic thing, lightly kissing his forehead. Know-it-all brat didn't know how to have faith. "I know it.

"Come on." Jason let go of him and slid off the bed to the curtains on the far side of the room. Alfred still opened them every morning. "Help me get this place really dark."

"Why?" Not knowing his brother's plans, Tim left the album open and followed after him, wiping away his tears with the back of his hand.

The teen grinned. "Because we're celebrating knowing Dickybird at all, and all the craziness that came with him. When Dami gets in, keep him away from the cake."

"What about-"

"Way I figure," he continued, "we've got more time to get the right birthday gifts for him, but the cake and ice cream bit, that's for us. We have one and we have candles. Dick'd hate it if we let them go to waste. Now hurry it up! I wanna light them before Dad gets here."

Not needing any more prompting, Tim leapt to the curtain near him and started to pull. Looked like they were getting a birthday party after all.

* * *

A/N: I know it's short and sad, but I felt it needed to be done. Didn't know how to end the chapter or continue it so this is it. Jason's stepping up as big brother a lot here, somewhat imitating DIck at the moment. Everyone needs a pep up so he's helping. WHenever we were short candles, we would write out the number instead. A lot less trouble than going to the store last minute. What Tim said about kidnappings is true, but I couldn't find the exact numbers. I watch a lot of cop shows. Anywho, Dick's B-day passing without him, or even him knowing, is important. He's 17 now, a fun year. And this is his March 21st b-day, marking it as three months near exactly he's been gone. the end is in sight. X3


	38. 38 - Gun Control

Results of what happened last with Dick. Some things have clearly changed in his head.

* * *

**38 - Gun control**

"Better," Master stated, eyeing the holes made in the targets before them. Dick should have been proud of his improved marksmanship, but he only felt sicker. He was using a gun. He was using the weapon Bruce hated most of all. And he was getting good at it.

"Much better than when you started," Slade continued, walking around the targets critically. "You could kill an unarmed man in an alleyway without any difficulty."

It took all of the teen's self-control not to throw up at the image or the implication. Unarmed man. Alley way. Kill... The story of how his adoptive grandparents' died weighted heavily in his mind, making him sicker by the moment. The image of Bruce as a broken, crying child, kneeling next to his parents' bleeding bodies, persisted in his mind. He wanted to throw the gun away more than anything right then. The horror of the thought must have been obvious on his face because his master chuckled after looking at his face.

"Poor choice of words I see. You're still shaking while you fire, harming your aim." The assassin had both hands behind his back, assessing the damage even further. His one eye was both amused and critical of every detail. "You're only at the level of a common mugger right now. You need to be pass that before we can leave."

The lad hardly heard anything past 'common mugger', his eyes focused on the man's exposed back. The man wasn't wearing any armor at the moment. He wasn't scared of Dick either, even though he was still holding a loaded gun. Remembering a recent dream of his family scattered around the room, bleeding out because of this monster, his weighted hand started to rise.

Now was his chance. Slade was so focused on pinpointing his flaws and reveling in having taught him to use a gun, he didn't even sense the pistol being pointed at his back. At this distance he couldn't miss. Two through the chest, one through the head. Even he couldn't survive that. Wintergreen may kill him afterwards but the madman would be dead.

All he had to do was pull the trigger.

'_Come on! Do it!_' the dark part of him cried out. '_This is your chance! You already promised you would!_'

'_Dick,_' another part of him started, reminding him of Timmy, '_don't. Rule 2 remember? You can't use guns. And Batman doesn't kill. Bruce doesn't kill. You wanted to be like him, right?_'

'_You're not gonna get another chance,_' the other side of him stated. '_He's too smart for that._'

'_Better to not kill and have a clear conscience,_' came the rebuttal. '_You want to come home right? How can you do that if you pull the trigger?_'

'_Dick,_' a voice within calmly spoke, '_you know what to do._'

Gritting his teeth, the teen let his arm flop to his side, eyes falling to the ground as he mentally chided himself. He couldn't do it. He couldn't just shoot the guy and end his life. Dick knew in order to get his freedom he'd have to kill the man, but he couldn't. He just couldn't, let alone with a gun.

He wasn't to the point that he could kill.

"Slade!" Wintergreen's voice jerked the teen from his thoughts, nearly gaping at him in terror as he realized something. Their makeshift shooting range was in line of sight of the man's usual work area. He saw everything.

Thankfully the man seemed to ignore him as he brought a satellite phone to his friend. "A potential client is calling for you. One you've had before. He's quite animate."

Sighing slightly, his master turned to the boy. "Renegade, clean and sharpen the weapons for tomorrow. I should be done with this before you are."

"Yes sir." Not needing another invitation, Dick hurried to be away from the men. When he was out of sight and hearing of the two, and not too far from the weapons, he collapsed to the ground and vomited, releasing the never ending twisting of his stomach at last.

One twitch away from ending this and he couldn't manage to move a finger. He couldn't do it. He couldn't...

* * *

"I'm in the middle of something Mr. Luthor," Deathstroke insisted stoically into the satellite phone. This was a very inconvenient call. "Something vitally important."

"_Yes, the transformation of Richard Grayson into your loyal successor._" The millionaire on the other end seemed highly amused, as if it were a personal joke. This did little to improve the assassin's mood. "_I am well aware, and applaud your efforts. I look forward to seeing the finished model, but I must insist on your services soon Mr. Wilson. If we miss this window, the pieces will be far more difficult to attain. They will be in an area you are familiar with, and with your new... asset... acquiring every piece I desire will be child's play._"

"Child's play you say?" A thought came to mind, one that made him smile. "Very well. Send your information to the PO Box we used previously. Once I've assessed the risks, I will finalize the price. You know the routine."

"_Of course._"

"And Luthor," a slight growl came to his voice as he proceeded, "do not meddle in my affairs. The boy is not to be known until my choosing, understood?"

A laugh came from the other man's lips. "_Understood. I just find it interesting you want such an annoying child to work for you. I remember very well the first time I met him, and the last. He never grew up._"

"Dare I even ask how you found out?" His eye narrowed dangerously in thought. If Luthor could figure out the truth, it was only a matter of time before Wayne or another did. If the League questioned him, the boy's disappearance will be a priority case and he did not want their 'B' looking in on him. He rarely dealt with that hero, but the advice he gave the League during their fights made him a formidable foe.

_"If I told you that Mr. Wilson, I wouldn't be where I am today. Let's just say I like to keep tabs on my associates._" The smugness in Luthor's voice made him scowl further. So he wasn't figured out; Deathstroke's actions were being watched. If Lex Luthor wasn't such a valuable client, he'd have eliminated him for this.

The conversation over, Slade passed the cell back to Wintergreen and started making plans. "Looks like we'll be field testing Renegade shortly."

"I don't think that's such a good idea." His friend eyed where the boy was supposedly cleaning weapons. "He was ready to shoot you in the back earlier. I think he's planning on killing you."

"Good." His smirk made the man nearly gape at him in surprise. "All his life everything has been black and white, good and evil. Now he's seeing the greys."

"You want him... to try and kill you?"

"He won't though. He's not a killer. Not yet." A grin grew on his face as he contemplated what would happen next. His lessons were seeping into the lad, whether he knew it or not. And after swearing loyalty in exchange for survival, he knew the boy was putty in his hands, being shaped the way he wanted. "He will try and he will fail, over and over again. By the time he is capable of killing me, he will have lost all reason to. There will be nothing to go back to, and I'll be the only one who wants him then."

Will looked over him for a minute, then shook his head. "You're playing a dangerous game with that boy Slade. It's highly likely this will end poorly."

"That's why we're going to have a test run." Slade strode towards his bunker, a plan forming in his head. "Renegade needs to slowly enter the underworld. Get used to the water you could say. Blur the line as much as possible. Luthor may have just provided the opportunity I need to do just that.

"Mind acquiring a truck for our return to the US?"

* * *

A/N: Say goodbye to Wintergreen. That's the last you'll be seeing him here. I have a DNB headcannon where Lex Luthor absolutely hates the Waynes, but really wants to get guardianship of Tim so he can get Drake Industries. He really doesn't like Dick though because he's been an annoying kid. He thinks this is really funny and wants to encourage this change as a way to stick it to Bruce.

As for the rest... Dick's hearing voices in his head (they don't last long) and Slade is now 'Master'. he's not quite able to kill yet but he's being very obedient. Slade wants him to become something similar to himself, and by opening up the option of killing, he's getting him closer. It won't be until long after he stops throwing up though. That'll take a while. The stress is seriously affecting his body. Taking him out of the woods now though... I'm not sure that's such a good idea Sladiekins. *evil laugh*

Tomorrow includes violence and more breaking. Enjoy!


	39. 39 - Assault at the Border

A bit of messy violence, then you're back with Titans. I'm fairly sure this is the last of the bad bad parts. The rest are predictable.

* * *

**39 - Assault at the Border**

Dick focused on performing crunches while hanging from the container's ceiling rather than the motion of the vehicle. The back of a semi again. He really hated this, but that didn't matter. What mattered was he was leaving Mexico and returning to the States. Chances of rescue became higher if he was in a place a Leaguer frequented, and the majority of them lived in the US.

Not that it mattered much now. Not with his plan in place.

A freezing cold filled his stomach and mind the majority of the time, numbing him to the experiences around him. It made it easier to bear, and easier to plot out the future. Even though he knew it wasn't going to be easy, he was going to do this. Because if he didn't, his master, Slade, would win. He couldn't let that happen. He couldn't...

'_I'm really losing it aren't I..._' Wincing, the acrobat pushed aside all his thoughts and focused on the task at hand. He needed strong muscles and perfected fighting styles to beat that guy anyway, and this was the best he could do to make that happen. Not like he could do much else with his master at the wheel and him in back. With Wintergreen keeping the fort back in who-knows-where Mexico, Dick would be subject to long days and nights in isolation in the moving vehicle. Already he'd gone a few days on the road like this, or it felt like a few days. His internal clock was off.

The vehicle slowed to a stop, jolting him slightly. Glaring at the locked doors, he wondered what was going on. A radio propped next to the pad he was using to sleep on in there started to crackle. "_Border patrol. Keep quiet._"

The teen nodded, then dropped to the floor to make as little noise as possible. He had no illusions about his situation, knowing if the patrol discovered him they'd be killed. He had to make sure he wasn't seen or heard, keep the men outside from becoming suspicious. So he stepped onto his pad in the corner and sat down quietly, holding his knees to his chest. He rested his chin on them and waited quietly for the all clear.

Minutes passed where he heard nothing. The crackling on the radio nearby dropped to a murmur, turning into white noise. It didn't bother him. No news was good news. He could use the quiet for a few minutes and listening to white noise calmed his thoughts. Zoning out, he focused on his breathing and keeping himself perfectly still. If he stayed like this, everything would run smoothly.

Then he heard it, the unmistakable sound of gunfire. Multiple gunfire. Jerking out of his seat, his eyes grew wide in alarm. No... it couldn't be happening... Quickly he scrambled to the radio and pressed the button to call. "What's going on out there?! Master! What's going on?!"

No response. The gunfire increased and yelling consumed the air outside the container.

He didn't dare hope the border guards would be the ones who won.

As fast as he could, Dick grabbed a stray stiff wire he saw earlier and ran to the door keeping him in there. The lock on the inside was pretty easy to pick, but pulling the thing up took more effort than he expected. He had to roll out from the container and landed on his hands and knees before sprinting out from around the vehicle.

He stopped a second later, gaping in horror at the sight before him.

It was a slaughter.

At least twenty men in uniform lay on the ground, majority with bullet holes oozing blood from their bodies. Empty eyes stared up at him, chilling him to the bone. They weren't moving even the slightest. No life in them at all. Dead.

Dick hesitated, his mind flashing back to his parents' corpses. Their bodies fell in the same impossible positions, unnatural. It was exactly the same. People were dying in front of him.

The gunfire continued, pulling him out of his shock for a brief moment. Deathstroke was taking out the guards at the check point's building. They were getting slaughtered by their own guns.

"NO!"

Desperately the teen ran forward, panic gripping his chest as he tried to run interference. He couldn't let this happen! They didn't have to die! Sprinting and leaping over bodies, he tried to make it to the guardhouse before it was too late. But half way there he heard the guns stop, then one final shot. The shot ending everything.

The lad stopped mid step, gaping at the source. Master was just through a door, taking out the last of the men there. Closed off. Everyone was dead. Everyone.

His breathing flew into a panic, guilt and fear eating away at his chest. This couldn't be happening. They were just going to cross the border back into the US. They didn't have to die. The last time they crossed no one died. Why did he...

Looking over the bodies surrounding him, he tried to find even one sign of life. Just one. Some men were still breathing but wouldn't for long. Desperate to do anything good, some kind of apology to these people, Dick darted to one robust man's side and started performing CPR. Bruce taught him how when he was eight. That night was impossible to forget.

"One, two, three, four, five!" Quickly he cleared the man's airways and pumped some air into him. A weak response from the guy followed, but he continued anyway. Hands back on his chest, he repeated the process. "One, two, three, four, five!"

Getting close again, he hissed in the man's ear between breaths. "If you want to live, play dead." Three breaths later and he was pressing his chest again. Another message came between breaths this time around too. "That's Deathstroke the Terminator."

He continued to repeat this process of messages between breaths, praying the man would live long enough to tell someone. "Contact the Justice League. Don't bother with feds. I was kidnapped. Tell the League there are nanoprobes in kids."

Seeing some eye movement, he hoped he got the message through to the man and wasn't trying to resuscitate a corpse who couldn't hear him. Part way through his eighth round of compressions, someone grabbed his collar and pulled back, hard.

"NO! LET ME GO!" The teen thrashed against his captor's grip, wanting to scramble back the man with every fiber of his being. "LET ME GO! I GOTTA SAVE HIM!"

"That's enough!" Slade glared down on the teen, outraged by his involvement in this. Angrily he threw the kid to the side, hoping to detour him. Instead Dick just scrambled to another man's side, trying to perform CPR again. "Renegade!"

"One, two, three, four-!" A bullet whizzed past his shoulder and through this man's head. Dick jolted back and away in horror. The confirmed kill shot was one thing he'd recognize in any mental state. Angrily he turned his tear stained face on the assassin. "No... why did you do that?!"

The assassin loomed over him, glaring at him with hos one good eye. He growled as he ordered him. "Get. Back. In. The. Truck."

"WHY DID YOU DO THAT?!" He demanded again, unable to think straight. How dare he... killing all these people... "YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO-!"

His master grabbed him by his throat and lifted him to his feet angrily. Fear and dread filled the teen's entire body. For a brief time he forgot the danger he and others were in. It came back in full force now. Coldly, Master ordered, "Get back in the truck. Now."

Paralyzed, Dick just shook with fear. Tears coursed down his face and he couldn't tear his eyes off the man who tore apart his life. The disappointed smolder on the man's face frightened him even more, especially after he dropped the kid onto his feet and grabbed his shirt to pull him back to the vehicle. The teen struggled to keep up in his terrified state, unable to look away from his master. The assassin threw open the back door of the container the semi was hauling then shoved his apprentice inside. Dick scrambled to get away as soon as he was in.

"Now stay in there and don't make a peep. You don't leave this thing unless I say so, ever." Slamming the door shut, the teen was consumed by the darkness of the metal container. Shivering, he looked to his hands, finally noticing the blood on them. So much blood. Had he saved the guy? Would he get his message to the League?

A second later he heard another round of gunshots. Final execution ones. He screamed once as one sounded, praying he could stop it, but then remembered his master's orders. Not a peep. Tears dripping down his face and guilt eating away at his insides, Dick curled up where he was, hands over his ears to block out the noise. It didn't help.

So consumed in his dread and guilt, he didn't even notice then the truck started up again and took off. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry..."

* * *

Dick was still huddled in on himself when the hatch opened again, still shaking. How long had it been? He didn't even get a chance to look up before a high velocity stream barreled into his body. Crying out, he flew back against the metal walls of the container. Master stepped up and inside once he was against the far wall, his aim as sure as ever.

It hurt. Despite having gone through this countless times before, it still hurt. The water slapping his body, the places he aimed at most, how long he kept it there, being pinned to cold metal or rough stone, it all hurt.

Before he knew it the water shut off and he could slump against the floor. He desperately tried to regain his breath, to calm his shaking, but it did little good when his master knelt before him, glaring at him with his one eye. "Never disobey me Renegade. If you didn't want this, you should have stayed put. This is the consequence of your actions. You can't save everybody. Focus on protecting those you can save instead of complete strangers already dying. Understood?"

Trembling, Dick nodded. He couldn't look at his master, too terrified and angry to do anything. He had to obey. Obey or watch his family die, then himself. But those men... they didn't deserve to die.

"I said, do you understand me, Apprentice."

A threat came with his voice this time. Wide eyed, he looked up and in the eye of the one condemning him to hell. "Yes Master. I understand sir."

That made the man happy. "Good. Now get up. There's another truck waiting for us."

His eyes fell to the ground again as he nodded and stood up. Not like he had a choice. Carefully he got to his feet and followed his master out of the container. Everything was left inside it, including a block of C4 and a timer. All evidence was going to be destroyed.

Numbly the teen walked straight to another shipping container laying on the semi's back. He barely noted the Palo Verde not too far off, giving him an idea on location. Internally he winced, knowing he was going to bake in this thing, but did nothing more. He had to be good and obey the monster before him.

At least for now.

* * *

_"FBI agents today are horrified and baffled by the slaughter at the Arizona/Mexican border late last night. Thirty-one border patrol men were shot and killed at a check point, with one survivor not expected to live through the night. Local officials arrived at the scene after receiving a weak S.O.S. from the patrol's emergency radio system. Preliminary reports state they were shot with one of their own automated firearms, many of them execution style. Is this a case of an illegal border crossing gone horribly wrong, or a predicator for a terrorist attack? More details to follow._

_"In similar news, a Window Payne Corporation semi-truck was found blown to pieces just twenty miles north of the earlier mentioned border killings. Debris are still being looked through, but early sightings say pieces of blankets, clothes, and food were found. Thus far, no bodies have been found. Connected? Possibly. A full investigation is underway."_

"That sucks..." Beast Boy changed channels, bored by the news already. Arizona and Mexico weren't their problems after all.

* * *

A/N: Someone told me that it was easier to go to Mexico then to return to the US, and I know AZ is pretty particular about border crossings. Palo Verde only grow in the Sonoran Desert, which is mostly in Arizona. It'll be a day or so before they make it to Jump, but they're back in the US! And I'm kinda sorry about all the nameless deaths here. I don't have anything against border patrols or Mexico or anything, I just thought they couldn't get past the border without a lot of deaths. I did warn you. And I just saw an episode of bones where someone's brains got blown out, so this is really graphic in my head.

Now for what really needs to be said: Poor Dick! He's already severely traumatized, starting to cope, then sees all this! Life just sucks for our favorite acrobat. He's got about a day or so though to get himself back together so don't be too surprised by his change of attitude tomorrow. Poor kid's a mess. Slade is gonna get it eventually so don't stay angry for too long. Until next time!


	40. 40 - Body Count

And comes the setting. Be warned, Dick had some time to cope from last chapter.

* * *

**40 – Body Count**

Roy looked over open cases the League was working on, just browsing really. After Slade disappeared last November, the tower was pretty quiet. The Teen Titans took down his chroniton detonator and hadn't heard from him since. Small timers and trouble makers entertained them on occasion, but second tier villains like Dr. Light got old after a while.

Besides, it's not like he had school or anything. Wally was graduating soon and the others were taking random courses online, if at all. Him? After cutting ties with Ollie he hadn't even thought of college. Sure Dinah would approve, and so would the League (those who gave a hoot), but he wasn't out to impress people anymore. He gave up the fame of being the first 'sidekick' a long time ago. It only gave him trouble. Donna and Wally earned it more.

The only thing positive he had from that title now was access to files the League had. Whoever this mysterious 'B' was Ollie and the rest talked to and got their intel from, he was wickedly good at detective work. But some cases just hadn't been solved yet due to how many there was going on, or were ongoing investigations due to the trails going cold. And when he was bored, Roy liked to look through what wasn't finished and see if he could beat them to the punch.

Boy would that peeve off Ollie.

After a few minutes his eyes rested on one open case that really twisted his insides. A missing person of interest, Richard J. Grayson. The archer frowned, remembering when this case started. Christmas. That must have really sucked for his family. Thing was, he knew the kid, and his family. Dick (as his family called him) was a friend of his, one he met at those fancy rich parties Ollie dragged him to. Born in the circus, lost his parents to a mobster, adopted into a rich man's house, got a handful of siblings in the process, straight A student and a fairly well known acrobat online. He was practically the prince of Gotham, poster boy even. And for some reason he up and vanished a few days before Christmas.

The FBI agent who first headed the investigation called him a runaway. 'B' though called it a kidnaping and made it a League priority. There was some deal the core League members made that put Gotham on their radar, specifically for kidnappings and psychopaths. He remembered helping take down Joker the previous year when 'B' called in Flash and said to bring back up. KF asked him to help since he was in town and frankly he wasn't too keen on repeating the experience.

Still, thinking of Dickybird ('Jaybird's name for him, another friend of his who happened to be this guy's adopted brother), he couldn't see the guy running off like that. 'B' said kidnapping, and from the files he read and the stories he heard from other Leaguers, the guy was rarely wrong. The League was looking for him, but in the past three months they found little to nothing. There was even a note to look in Mexico for the guy, on abandoned military bases. If Roy wasn't so busy being the normal guy on the Titans, he'd be going down south looking for him too.

Instead all he could do was keep an eye out and tell his team about this guy. Seeing that guy's grinning face in the file before him and from his memories, it was hard to not feel some loss. Dick really shouldn't have disappeared. Whoever took him was just asking for trouble.

Too bad he and the other Titans were busy with their usual work to try their hand at finding him. The archer sighed and went to another file. Keeping an eye out was all he could do. Besides, what was the likelihood Dick would be dragged cross country to their city?

* * *

Dick stepped out of the semi, stoic and more interested in getting out of that metal box than in the warehouse port they were disembarking in. He stood at attention like a good soldier about five feet from his exit, just where his master wanted him to be at the moment. It pleased the man to no end when he seemed to finally get with the program.

The burning hate in his eyes that appeared in flashes when Master passed by though told him he hadn't quite transformed his way of thinking yet. The boy still had some independence despite his fear of this man.

Still, there was enough progress, both physical and mental, that warranted this particular amount of freedom. A temporary change of scenery. Slade said it was a 'dry run for the future', a way to 'test his progress'. Apparently some offers were being made to whoever delivered something and the opportunity was too good to pass up. Once the deals were done, they would be returning to Mexico to continue his training.

The one eyed assassin looked over his stoic apprentice, his blue eyes focused on the ground in front of him. "Still upset about that border patrol aren't you Renegade."

Dick bit back the bile from being called that name. Master never called him 'Richard' anymore. Only Wintergreen did, and he stayed behind for when they returned. It was all 'Renegade' and 'Apprentice'. Neither could lift his spirits. "They didn't have to die."

"Actually they did." The assassin moved further into the warehouse, motioning for the boy to follow. He did, obediently and at a safe distance. His jaw clenched as the man continued. "They insisted on seeing what was inside the truck. If they looked inside, they would have held me for questioning and I would have had to kill them anyway. I just saved us some time. Trying to save one of them was a waste of yours."

The acrobat clenched his teeth, balling his fists and forcing himself not to shake. Now was not the time to attack him. He had to control himself, not attack, stop grieving, not defend the memory of those who died. To ensure they received justice, he had to bide his time. Acting out would only reveal his hand.

He came to realize something in Mexico, something that made his training easier to do. In order to save his family, Slade had to die. He swore a false oath of loyalty to this monster that day, promising himself it was nothing more than a lie he'd cancel out soon enough. After all the torture and 'training' he'd been forced to endure, and the sure knowledge he was on his own, a plan formed perfectly in his mind.

Dick was going to kill, but only the one time. He just didn't know how to do it yet. Yet.

Master smiled coldly at his apprentice before showing him around. "This is my base here in San Francisco. I have safe houses and depositories all throughout the city, but this is home. Memorized those maps yet?"

'_San Francisco?_' The teenager's mind raced as he nodded. Earlier his master had given him maps of a city, no names just buildings and streets. Urban geography. He had to know all of it like the back of his hand before making it there. He had it nearly plastered into his mind before crossing the border. He didn't realize he was memorizing a city he heard about frequently. A spark of hope lit inside him.

It was the home of the Teen Titans. Jump District in particular. What was Master thinking bringing him where heroes (albeit teenaged ones) resided? And making him learn the terrain, it'd be all too easy now to slip out one night, run into them, and tell them what's going on. If he could manage to grab the trigger, he knew he could find safety there! There was even a Wayne Tech in town! He knew the address, he could easily—

"Good. You'll need it when you confront the Teen Titans." There was some spite in how he said 'Titans'. Dick blinked. Master really didn't like the Teen Titans. It was evident in every word he spoke about them. "No doubt you'll be running into them. They're children playing hero, irresponsible children who don't understand what desperate men do to accomplish their goals. Honestly, they should have remained with their mentors until they knew how to save the dying along with fighting the common criminal."

'_Someone died and he blames them,_' the amateur detective figured out quickly as the man finished his soapbox rant. '_Someone important to him._' Quickly he went over what he knew about Deathstroke from Bruce's file in his head, but nothing linked him to the Titans. '_Crap! Bruce won't have them looking here! Wait, they don't have me connected to him yet, do they?_'

His thoughts never entered the man's mind as he continued on. "With your abilities and refined training, they shouldn't be any trouble for you. I believe your family makes a game out of figuring out how to defeat different members of the Justice League." Master smiled coolly at him while Dick's jaw clenched again. It was one of their games at the dinner table. Bruce put them up to it. "Finding ways to stall the Titans for a few minutes, even crippling them, shouldn't be too difficult for you.

"Oh, and don't even think about joining them Renegade, or even talking to them. Particularly on your errands." They came to a part of the highly renovated warehouse containing clockworks. It was more of a factory than warehouse come to think of it. On one wall were large screens. Lower quality than the holo-screens he used in Gotham that one night. Master pressed a remote button and displayed the probes coursing through bloodstreams, names and pictures next to them. Dick stopped mid-step, losing all color in his face. There were more than four displays.

"I took the liberty of infecting the Titans with the same probes as I did your siblings." The teen jerked his enraged and horrified glare at the man, his breath becoming labored quickly. He did what?! Master continued as if nothing could be better. "It'll make the fights easier for you. Should you refuse to fight them or try to pass off any information to them, both they and your siblings will die. You'll see the effects instantly and you may have a chance to save them, if you obey my orders.

"Are we clear Apprentice?"

Dick looked back between his master and the images. Before him were the lives of the people he cared about most and admired for the past couple years. Jason, Cass, Tim, Damian. Roy Harper, Oliver Queen's estranged ward. Donna Troy, Princess Diana of Themiscara's sister. Wally West, Barry Allen's nephew. Garth, King Arthur Curry of Atlantis' most trusted vassal. Victor Stone, former athlete and son of S.T.A.R. Labs' scientists. Garfield Logan, former Doom Patrol member and adoptive son of their leaders. Raven, a mysterious empathy with ties Jason Blood distrusted. Koriand'r, a Tamaranian refuge Superman said may be a princess. Most the world knew them by other names, but he knew who they really were, and who would be hurt the most if they died.

Instead of four small lives resting in his hands, it was twelve: his siblings and the leaders for the next generation of heroes.

He really didn't have any choice.

"Yes Master. Crystal clear."

Master's smile grew, pleased beyond belief. "Good. Now, if you'll follow me, I'll show you to your room. Training will resume in a few hours. I certainly hope your aim has improved since you last held a gun. Your throws are able to make up for most of it, but nothing compares to a hunting rifle."

Dumbly Dick followed the man as he gave him a brief tour of the place, glaring death upon the man's back. He had to kill this man. It was the only way to save everyone. Even if it killed himself along with it.

* * *

A/N: Funny thing about Roy's story about his time with 'B', the person on the other end who gave the orders was Dick. Bruce was too angry and emotional to calmly handle it and Dick took care of everything 'B' normally did behind his back. Why was Bruce such a mess? Because Jason was. DITF again. if you haven't read my version in DNB, you really should.

Well, they're back in the states and in Jump. In the comics the Titans started in New York then during Tim's run they moved to San Fran. Since everyone seemed to agree that Jump was in Cali, I made it a district in San Francisco to combine the two. I don't know anything about that area so I just based the idea off of other city's regions. Sorry if I'm wrong. Anywho remember back at like chapter 7 with the goose chase? Yeah, the probes went in then for them. Why did Slade do it? More control and power. He likes having the power of life and death over the Titans. I think after he had complete control over Dick, he'd let his siblings go, but when he felt it was right he'd blow up the Titans. Why does he hate them? Grant. Slade may be lording the Wayne kids' lives right now, but he's not a total monster. He wants control, nothing else. Dick doesn't see that yet and probably never would, but the truth is unless it was absolutely necessary, the man does not want to push that button and kill the kids. Just a fun little thing.

Funny non sequitur though, Anyone saw last night's Criminal Minds? 'The Return' is basically a good example of if Slade's apprentice plans went right. COmpletely new ep so probably easy to find on the website. I was watching it as I posted and it struck me as funnily similar. Just saying.


	41. 41 - First Heist

Everything starts somewhere. Short, but a start.

* * *

**41 - First Heist**

"_Are you ready Apprentice?_"

His master's voice over the earpiece haunted him as he looked over his target from a nearby rooftop. A museum. Not a high quality one like the Palace, but good enough to have state of the art security and a Van Goth. That was the target, a painting. Why he was being used to steal a painting eluded him. Dry run indeed. If he could stomach this, he could probably take on harder tasks.

Problem was, he probably couldn't stomach this. He threw up on the way over there and often during a brief stint at HIVE academy. The crimes he knew he was going to commit and what the effects would be on others just ate away his insides. But he had to do them, perfectly. The repercussions of getting caught were more than just a police record for him now.

Twelve people would die and Bruce would be torn apart from the inside out. If the man ever learned what happened after that, he was certain the only thing left in him would be revenge. And no one would be left to stop him. To save as many lives as Dick could, he had to do this. Didn't matter if he was ready or not.

"Yes sir."

"_Then begin._"

Dick shot off a zip line connecting his position to the museum's roof, near the air duct access. Like a shadow in the night, he silently flew through the air, rolling on the rooftop to break his fall seconds after release. He easily dodged the sensors up there, bypassing the initial security on the vent as he forced his way inside. Since he was still thin and limber, sliding inside and navigating through it wasn't impossible, just uncomfortable. For a brief moment he wondered how Selina did this for years before pushing every thought of his past far out of his mind. Even the thought of the cat burglar, Bruce's off and on girlfriend, twisted his insides. He needed to concentrate on the task at hand, not them.

He had memorized the way the air shafts worked the other day, or was it earlier that day? He didn't get out much, despite the change in locations. He didn't even know what day of the week it was, let alone the month. And California was known for sunny weather, not snow. He shook his wandering head and focused again on getting through this place instead of how warm the place was in comparison to Gotham.

Anyway, it was a good thing he memorized everything. His lithe body automatically moved towards the corridor where his target was. Soon he was close to the hall holding the precious art piece (probably the highest priced item on display come to think of it) and had to leave the vents. Finding an access panel, he slipped out and into the crawls pace just above the ceiling. A tight fit and the Styrofoam tiles wouldn't support his weight for very long, but he didn't need much space or time. He just had to move one tile and slip out.

Within seconds he was hanging onto the support bars of the ceiling ninja style, looking for a clear path to his target. He just needed to land in the right spot, then he could disarm the pressure plates and laser grids surrounding the painting. Getting there though would be tricky. Glancing around, he spotted a strong cross section in the ceiling not too far from him. Not much but it'd have to do.

In one swift movement he grabbed the grapple from his utility belt, hooked it on the cross section and swung from the ceiling to the floor, flipping dramatically before touching down. Couldn't help but do that extra flourish. His light step on the tile floor below left a faint echo, almost as if a pencil dropped instead. Only the cameras would be able to see him now, if they were pointed at him. The spot he had landed in was a blind spot, and would be for another two minutes.

The acrobat flipped between laser lights, evading the grid with easy as he made it to the painting in question. Stopping just short of it, he crouched to the ground and took out the devices his master insisted he use. Course he knew how to move around pressure plates and laser grids from Bruce (escape training) but the man didn't know that. The less he knew he could do, the better. He set the power surging tech a foot apart just before the plates and turned them on, effectively disabling the security for a few minutes. Long enough for him to grab the painting, put it in the empty sack on his back, and get out of there. At least there wasn't glass around the darn thing.

Looking at it now, he paused, blinking at it in surprise. There was a Van Gogh at the manor. He learned how to clean up paintings on it after throwing a cup of pudding at Jason for taking Peanut one night and hitting the wall just next to it instead. Alfred seemed to have some talent in art restoration and taught him a thing or two about fine art.

This was not a Van Gogh. It was a very good forgery of one.

He took one glance at the sign next to it and internally groaned. Donated by Lex Luthor. He was helping with an insurance scam. For the cue ball no less. Dick couldn't help but shake his head and sigh heavily as he took the thing off the wall. He wished he could congratulate the forger for a job well done, but knowing the megalomaniac he probably had him killed. No witnesses. If Deathstroke wasn't taking the contract, he probably would have been killed too.

The fake safely in the sack, he grabbed the pieces of technology and put them in his pouches, turning around quickly to escape. Looking upwards, he spotted the camera pointed straight at him, light working. He lingered too long in front of the picture and now he was caught on tape. Knowing he was seen, guilt overflowed in him. The piece may be a fake, and he may have had a mask on, and he may be saving lives, but he still felt guilty about everything.

Faster than he could wince, Dick signed 'I'm sorry!' to the camera before flipping back to the place he left the grapple line. A thought struck him part way there, letting him try one more move before disappearing from the camera's view and shooting back to the ceiling. A few more swings on the support beams and he was back in the air shaft, crawling out of there.

Alarms and shouts started only after he was back outside and zipping back to the roof he originally watched the place from. He didn't wait to see the cops come or if the Teen Titans would show up; the acrobat ran as fast as he could across rooftops, leaping and flying from shadow to shadow.

Over halfway back to the haunt, he collapsed to his knees, shaking and vomited. No one was chasing him, but he could almost swear some laundry hanging on a line in the shadows was a cape. A familiar cape. He wasn't there, he couldn't be. But just a glance out the corner of his eye and…

Frankly, how Dick made it back to the haunt was a blur. His head hurt and his stomach churned. It took all his willpower not to look ready to collapse at a moment's notice when he presented his master the forgery. "Excellent work Renegade. They almost didn't know you were there. Almost."

The teen closed his eyes slowly, still wearing the mask, pained. Screens showing the probes in his family's bodies kept going off to the side, reminding him what was at stake once again. The screen before the man had the footage where he was seen on camera. It wasn't much, just standing in front of an empty display, signing 'I'm sorry', then flipping out of view. It was only clear he was the one who took the painting, and that he knew sign language.

"Planning on turning that into your signature?" Master joke coolly. "Signing every action with an apology?"

The acrobat said nothing, rather biting his lips close so he didn't have to respond.

* * *

A/N: I am currently working on writing Dick's brief stint at HIVE Academy so don't bother looking for it yet. It'll come out after all of this. As it's not important to the core story, it's something for later. So you're not missing anything, just that Dick has a tendency to throw up a lot now. Stress and conflicting emotions does that to people.

Now this may or may not be the thing Lex phoned about. I just needed someone who'd pay Slade off for something. I picked Van Gogh because of Doctor Who. Great episode with him in it. As for Dick's abilities with art, well didn't he have a curator job once in the comics? He had to have the skills from somewhere, and in Trinity, Alfred was an archeologist among other things. He could teach Dick everything about art.

The sign language is important. Didn't know how to end the chapter and it was kinda pulling teeth writing it. But it's done. Tomorrow, a Titan! And Dick's true nature.


	42. 42 – Fire and Water

From this point on, there's a lot more action, and Titans.

* * *

**42 – Fire and Water**

His seventh heist. He really didn't like it. It wasn't for money, art, or a scam, but for some kind of high tech gizmo. Breaking into technology firms and going after a self-powered light source was never on his bucket list, and yet that was exactly what he did.

'_Must have some kind of buyer lined up for it,_' Dick thought to himself as he put the item in his satchel. He saw his master looking through papers and emails before. Part of him ran through a list of possible buyers from Bruce's files and tried to figure out who had the money to hire Deathstroke to get it, while the other part focused on getting away before guards or heroes popped up. Everyone from two-bit themed villains, to the vain idol rich the League occasionally faced, flew through his mind as he ran away from the building. One by one the names were crossed off the list as he recalled what happened to them or where they were back in December or how they were financially. The detective nurtured by Bruce all those years kept working until he was several blocks away and safe from pursuit.

Part way back to the haunt, he leaned against a stone wall and vomited on one of the many flat rooftops. Trying to figure out who wanted it only pushed away his churning stomach from committing a crime for a while, but not for good. He leaned against the wall and focused on breathing, performing a meditation technique he learned as a kid to try and rid himself of nightmares. He wasn't the best at it, and the fact that guilt ate at his insides didn't help.

He stole. Dick Grayson, an advocate for following the law nearly his entire life, stole technology worth millions. The actual stealing, going in mostly undetected and taking the item under their very noses, that part gave him an adrenalin rush he rather enjoyed. He could see why Catwoman did it now. But he broke the law, took something that didn't belong to him, something the world had on display. He was a criminal now.

He was everything he hated.

Resting his head against the cool concrete, he just counted his lucky stars he hadn't run across the Teen Titans yet. If he kept the show down to a minimum and didn't really hurt anyone and kept to lower end targets without any connections to each other, he might be able to continue avoiding them. At least until they went back to Mexico and he didn't have to feel guilty for every little thing he did.

'_Great, now I'm wishing I never left that place. I really have lost all hope._' Slowly he got his heart under control, his shaking leaving him at last. All the training in the world wouldn't have prepared him for the after affects for what he did that night, or any of his previous heists. Only experience would help him learn to handle this. Lots of it.

Dreading the future coming for him, he pushed himself off the stone wall and took a step away from his own bile. He had to get back to the haunt before Master sent his Sladebots after him. He had the whole night to get the job done, a reward for his good behavior, but he didn't want to make the man mad. He readjusted the mask covering the top part of his face so he couldn't see his nose anymore, then turned towards the horizon. He had to get moving.

Again the acrobat leapt from rooftop to rooftop, sending out grappling hooks and swinging through the air to get to his next destination. Frankly, this part was quite enjoyable, reminding him of his time in the circus… and also the one time he saw Batman in action before the last case. Seeing him swing through the air back then… Dick performed a trick midair, imagining he was flying by his side for a moment. That would have been a great life, he was certain of it.

Landing on one roof top, almost halfway there, he heard sirens. For a moment his heart leapt into his throat. Had they found him? Tracked him? He was certain he made it out of there scot-free. He flew into the shadows, concealing himself for a few minutes before realizing they weren't police sirens. Fire engines.

Curiosity got the better of him and he poked his head out, wondering where they were headed. A couple blocks away an industrial building was in flames. The teen was so focused on running he hadn't noticed the fire or the smoke heading his way. He coughed when he caught scent of it, cringing. Industrial alright. Judging by the smell, the place had to be a mattress manufacturing plant. Jason convinced him once to put one on fire in their backyard when he was ten. They were going to throw it out anyway. Alfred was so mad at them…

Well it was fun to watch. He had a few hours before sunrise, may as well enjoy the accident/arson/show.

In a flash he leapt off the building and onto the light poll nearby. Twisting and turning as he made it downwards, he gained enough momentum to fly onto the next emergency vehicle to cross his path. Hitching that ride (an ambulance) he made it to the scene just as the fire was reaching its highest point. Different metals being burned sparked in beautiful colors before them, mesmerizing onlookers within seconds. Everyone was so busy with the fire and the surrounding victims (a few late night workers and passersby) they didn't notice when Dick shot of a line to a neighboring building's rooftop and flew off. Had to love big distractions.

Flipping over the roof's ledge, he quickly made himself comfortable in the shadows. Purples and blues appeared in the flames on occasion, reminding him of fireworks, but the smell of burning synthetic cotton took away the beauty of it all. '_Don't they know that stuff is toxic? Company better have some good insurance. Hm?_'

From the corner of his eye he spotted someone wearing a lot of blue and black that wasn't a cop. Curious, he turned his head to look. The teen's jaw dropped. Aqualad. It was Aqualad, just Aqualad. And he was barreling towards the fire with a rushing river at his heels. Gaping at the guy, the hero charged headlong into the flaming building to save it. A hero through and through, despite his age or who trained him. Dick blinked after him for a minute before gasping, horror filling him.

Aquaman had done the same thing last year. It did not end well.

"That idiot!" Ignoring the sounds of people below and the flames before him, the acrobat shot out a line and swung into the second level of the building. Crashing into the window, he fell into a roll and kept low to the floor for a moment before charging forward. A gasmask left his belt and found its way to his face as he ran past the burning mattresses and extra supplies, briefly noticing signs of accelerants.

Arson flew through his mind before he found an open elevator shaft and leapt inside. The flames hadn't hit that part yet thankfully, and the top of the shaft looked stable too. Quickly he took a rope from his belt and tossed it around the cables within, sliding down them without ever making contact. Dropping one level took no time at all, and wrenching open the top exit of the lift wasn't that hard, when he took that S off his chest and used it to pry it open. He wasn't prepared for the searing heat that hit him afterwards.

"Dang it." Quickly he shot his grapple to the top of the shaft and lowered the handle through the hole, knowing he wouldn't have time for accuracy later. Dick ducked through the hole, dropping inside and through the previously broken doors leading to the ground floor. He had to find Aqualad fast, before he turned into fish jerky!

Without his bidding, his mind reviewed what happened to Arthur Curry the previous year. Fish jerky was the nice way to put it. What happened was actually much worse. His feet pounded the pavement as he searched for the man's old partner and friend. There was no way on earth he'd let the king of Atlantis down, not after all those two had been through. Good thing his suit was flame retardant.

While the young acrobat ran around the room, he mentally saw Bruce shouting over the intercom for Flash to get Aquaman out of that fire. Dodging the falling ceiling, he remembered Uncle Clark and him talking about the burns the king had suffered, and how being an Atlantian they wouldn't heal near as quickly from them. Flipping over debris, images of the hero shriveling and dehydrated after the fact flew through his head. Knowing how many months of recovery Aquaman had to go through because of that one fire, surprising and kicking his former protégé in the gut to knock him out didn't feel so bad.

If the guy wasn't so exhausted from using his water based powers in this toxic flaming building, he would have been able to fight back or even tell he was there before he struck. It was bad enough a rank amateur was barreling around in there and he couldn't tell. Quickly, Dick pulled the guy's arm over his shoulders and dragged him towards the shaft. The miniature oven at least led to cooler grounds. When Aqualad started waking up, they had to dodge more ceiling parts dropping on them.

"MOVE!"

Dick shoved the guy to one side while he leapt to the other. Rolling out of the way of more pieces, he darted back to the fishboy, barely regaining consciousness. Well, the guy wasn't about to object to help now. Grabbing him again, they limped over to the elevator and the grapple waiting for them. Running out of breath, he grabbed hold of the grapple and squeezed the retraction button. "Hold on tight."

"Wha?"

Before the Atlantian knew what was going on, the two of them shot through the air upwards, straight to the roof above. For a moment the aquatic hero panicked, thinking they would run headlong into the ceiling, only for his savior to throw all their weight forward to an access panel at the top. They were through it and on the roof within seconds. Rolling onto the roof, they reveled in the cleaner air around them for a moment. A short one. Flames still danced nearby.

Dick got to his feet first, grabbing Aqualad's shirt and pulling him into an upright position. "Keep moving Lancelot! We're not out of the woods yet!"

"Who…"

The acrobat didn't give him any time to gather his bearings; just yanked him into a run and threw both of them onto the neighboring building. Untucking the two of them from a roll, he forced him to run to another nearby rooftop. They had to get a safe distance away from the building, now. Two more rooftops and Dick finally let the teen hero drop, exhausted and suffering from heatstroke and carbon monoxide poisoning. He set the guy upright against a cool stone wall before looking around for some kind of water source. He had to get rehydrated as soon as possible. It was likely his brain was already affected by the fire.

Or he was just a stupid fish with a pretty face. "Seriously what were you thinking Lancelot?" Dick murmured as he took off his gasmask at last, growling more to himself than to the teenaged hero before him. The guy was out of it anyway. "Got a death wish or something? Extreme heat doesn't mix with aquatic creatures! Don't you ever barrel into a firefight again you hear me?! Never! King Arthur will have our hides if you die like that!"

"Wha?" The hero just looked at him, exhausted and confused. The lights were on but no one was really home. Typical.

"Use your brain next time got it?! No fires for you!" Before the guy could fight back, he fainted. The acrobat growled to himself. "Damn it, listen to me when I'm talking to you!"

"_And just who are you talking to Renegade?_"

Hearing the cool, threatening voice over his earpiece stopped him before he could say a word more. Master. Had he been listening to him the entire time? How much had he heard? Was he watching him right now? "_Well? Answer me Apprentice._"

"Myself." Not exactly lying. Aqualad passed out.

"_Hm._" Already he knew the man didn't believe him. "_Get back to the haunt. I have another mission for you._"

'_Already?!_' "Yes Master." He didn't argue with the one who controlled his life, not with that many lives in his hands. Quickly he sprung to his feet and darted away, shooting off a grapple to the next building to take a shortcut back to the haunt, on top of the local transportation.

As he vanished into the night, Aqualad's eyes opened and focused on him, still dazed and confused. He could swear he saw that costume before, twice over. Being saved by that person seemed off, but he was saved by him. Why? And why did he call him Lancelot?

* * *

A/N: Hmm... I was planning on Dick throwing him or splashing him into a water tower but I guess I never got to it. At least he's out of the fire. Roughly, Dick saved Aqualad! He didn't even think about it, just acted. Sound familiar? no matter what Slade wants, Dick's naturally a hero. As for the Lancelot nickname, I wanted the Batkids to have code words for random people and since Aquaman's name is Arthur Curry, and a king, they joke and call him king Arthur. His most well known knight: Lancelot. Ignore his relationship with Gwenevere. Mera's the Lady of the lake... or would that be Aquagirl... haven't thought about it. Anywho, it's a good nickname that hides his ID even more from Slade. Which is good because when he does find out about the save, he's going to be ticked. Strike one. Strike two comes monday.

A lot is going to happen next week, and it's going to be intense. A lot of episode quotations too. In two weeks and a day, this will all be over. Enjoy!


	43. 43 – Introducing X

Lots of TV adaption this week. Direct quotes from three episodes this week, along with actions and imagery. Enjoy!

* * *

**43 – Introducing X**

Normally a string of robberies would be a low priority to the Titans, better left to the police. But these robberies were unusual. The robber was a masked teenager near their age, and he was usually only caught on camera twice per heist. The first time was deliberate, a calling card. He'd sign 'I'm Sorry' to the cameras then vanish again. The second time was when he snagged the item, making it clear it was he who took it. Then he was gone.

Property damage was minimal, one or two guards were knocked out, if any, and there was no evidence left behind to incriminate anyone. The sensors never picked him up and he never tripped a wire or pressure plate. The kid was a ghost! And the media was calling him the 'I'm Sorry Thief'. It was the talk of the tabloids, and all the websites that liked to praise criminals instead of heroes. The guy was getting his own fanclubs! And he only started about two weeks ago!

What really put him on the Titans radar though was when he went after a series of chips that apparently could guide a nuclear warhead. The first one he took without a fuss (no sign of anyone targeting it before), but after a coincidental run in with Aqualad, the team made a point to catch the guy when he went after the other two. They wanted to know why a criminal like him would go out of his way to save their teammate from a burning building, and call him 'Lancelot'. Especially one who wore a cruel looking 'S' over his heart.

Hearing that there were two others needed, Donna thought it'd be a good idea to split off into two groups and keep an eye out for this guy. It was time to make the 'I'm Sorry Thief' really sorry. Cyborg and his group spotted him running in the tech district, away from the crime scene. When had he snagged the chip? "There!"

At the sound of his voice, the thief stopped and looked at him, eyes widening behind his bandana like mask. Even though they couldn't see the color of them through the white lenses, every muscle on the guy's face screamed 'Oh crap'. Within seconds he was running again, possibly faster than before. With that piece of encouragement, the four of them sprinted after him into the subway tunnels. The guy was scared of them. Good.

Starfire flew ahead of everyone else and looked around in surprise. "Where is he? Where is this thief claiming to be sorry?"

"He came in here, we all saw him!" Beast Boy turned into a hound dog trying to pick up a sent, but everything was too confusing for his nose to make out anything. "Eeeww! Someone peed in here!"

"He's gotta be here somewhere…" Cyborg tapped his controls for a moment, adjusting his eye to see cloaked individuals. "The station's empty this time of night. And the next train shouldn't be coming for another ten minutes."

"He's here. Mhm…" Raven leaned heavily on the stairs railings, touching her head gingerly.

"Raven?" Starfire floated down to their friend, concern all over her face. "What is wrong? Are you hurt?"

"That guy…" She winced, looking upwards to the rafters. "His emotions are all over the place, bleeding out. He's terrified."

The thief swung down from the rafters and kicked Cyborg skidding across the floor. A flip backwards regained the guy's balance before charging at them for a second strike.

"Doesn't look terrified to me!" Beast Boy jibed before getting a swift punch in the gut. The guy propelled himself over the shape shifter and leapt back to Cyborg, getting behind him before he could attack.

"Say what?!" An electric pulse coursed through his body for a moment, limiting his defenses so the back panel opened and his systems were exposed. The thief's hands dived in and started working. "What are you-! Who told you how to hack… my… ssyyyssstttteeeemmmssss…."

Cyborg fell to the ground, limp and shut down without a fight. His friends gaped in shock at the thief and their squad leader. No one, not even Gizmo, managed to take him down like that. "Cyborg?"

The thief didn't give them any more than a second to realize what happened before he dived back at them. Beast Boy narrowly escaped a gloppy gooey substance launched at him, but Starfire couldn't evade the bolo thrown at her. Tied up, two members were down and a third wasn't looking too good.

The guy's emotions… Weakly she chanted her mantra. "Azarath, Metrion, Zin—"

A super sticky tape was slapped over Raven's mouth, cutting her off before she could finish. A well placed kick knocked her too to the ground, unconscious.

"Raven!" Beast Boy turned into a ram and struck at the thief, landing a blow when the others hadn't. Propelled forward, the guy grabbed onto one of the pillars supporting the roof and twisted around it, striking right back at him. The green shifter thought he felt his ribs crack from the kick and his back bruise when he fell onto the tracks. While he tried to gather his bearings, the thief turned back to Starfire to make sure she couldn't follow him.

A train's horn filled the air. Like a deer in headlights, the former Doom Patrol member froze, looking at his oncoming doom. The 116 was early. Gaping at the lights coming towards him instead of shifting or getting off the track, dread filled him. Such a short life.

A hard yank brought him out of his stupor as the thief jerked him off the tracks and onto the opposite platform. Hard. The wind knocked out of both of them and breathing hard to regain their strength, they looked at each other for a moment. Beast Boy could swear he saw desperation and worry on the guy's face. "Idiot."

Both of them struggled to their feet, the thief looking at the train for a moment while the hero pointed and stared at him. "Dude, did you just save me?"

The words seem to strike the guy, making him kick his chest and high tail it up the stairs on that side. Beast Boy was still gripping his chest (definitely a cracked rib now) when the train passed and Starfire made it to him. Raven was going towards Cyborg to see if she could help him and radioing the rest of the team. "Beast Boy! You are undamaged?"

"Mostly…" Slowly the most experienced earth hero there got to his feet, staring at the exit their target used. "Who is that guy?"

* * *

Dick wiped his mouth with the back of his glove. He was sick again. Master wasn't going to like that. He threw up after every heist, his stomach twisting in knots the entire time he did opposite of what he believed in. His parents would hate what he became. If he were in Gotham, Batman would have taken him down.

Quickly he shook his head, clearing it as he came closer to the chamber Master was waiting for him in. One hand stayed on the wall for support. He needed it with the exhaustion and stress hitting him. Fighting the Titans, even half of them (their more powerful ones at that), took more out of him than he anticipated. Or maybe it was just saving Beast Boy from certain death that did it. He shook pretty badly after saving Aqualad too.

Taking a deep breath, he opened the door leading to Master's monitor room. He liked to watch Renegade as he performed from surrounding security cameras. Looking at the screens he could see every move he made in that subway tunnel. Frankly, they were the only cameras that got a good look at him the entire heist. The company's cameras only saw a body and hands. He really was that good, and all from games he played as a kid in Wayne Tower.

"Put the chip on the desk." He did, taking it out of his belt and putting the stupid thing as far from him as possible. "Come here."

Dick took a long breath before coming to his master and standing at attention. He liked that, imitating military manners. It made the man feel he was in control. Deathstroke brought up some footage, particularly of Beast Boy being saved from the train. "Didn't I tell you before to leave the Titans alone? If they fall, let them fall. If they burn, let them burn. They aren't doing you any favors alive are they?"

The teen said nothing, kept himself stony. If he was going to be punished for saving a life, again, then couldn't he hurry up? Master came within six inches of his face, displeasure dripping from his voice. "This is your second strike Apprentice. When I tell you to fight the Titans, you fight as if your life depends on it. Next time you fail to obey my orders, their lives will. Understood?"

A chill ran through the teen's body as his chest became heavy again. His lip trembled slightly but other than that he kept his composure. He had to act strong, even if he really wasn't. "Yes Master."

Satisfied, the man nodded. "Good. Now get to the shower. You smell horrible."

Immediate panic filled the teen's chest but he nodded and obediently headed for the 'shower', stripping along the way. His fault for getting sick. His fault for not obeying orders. His fault for putting Beast Boy in danger in the first place. They were all grounds for this in Master's mind, and it all wore away his.

It was only the thought of his siblings' lives and that of his force upon him foes that made him go through that door and face the music.

* * *

A/N: What? thought I'd forget about the Red X ep? the second half of it comes tomorrow. Oh, the reason Raven's so off her game is because she's an empath and Dick's incredibly emotional. I saw this one comic where she was unconsciously feeling everything others were and it overwhelmed her physically. That's the theory. Not much else to say about this one. Just... watch Beast Boy. After watching the episodes again and thinking things over, you'll find he's a lot more impressive than he makes himself to be. It wasn't until I was writing this story that I realized how good he is.


End file.
